


Visions

by kmoaton



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dark, Disturbing Themes, Explicit Sexual Content, Gray Harry, He's back, M/M, Male Slash, Mildly Dubious Consent, Questionable Choices, Sex, Slash, prisoner
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-25
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2017-12-03 13:47:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 40,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/698921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kmoaton/pseuds/kmoaton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Voldemort was gone and the boy who lived disappeared.  Content to live in the muggle world, Harry didn't realize the one thing he was missing until it bumped into him on the tube.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Painted Into A Corner

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [IsysSkeeter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IsysSkeeter/pseuds/IsysSkeeter) in the [HarryMort_Prompt_Night](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/HarryMort_Prompt_Night) collection. 



To say Harry was finally content would be inaccurate. He was at peace, which was a very different thing. His decision to walk away from the magical world was one he never regretted. He was tired of trying to live up to everyone's fanatical expectations as the boy who lived and live his life the way he wanted. That meant going to a muggle university and taking art classes. Surprisingly he showed a great aptitude for it and as James Evans, made a modest but decent living selling some of his works. He specialized in peaceful, idyllic scenes, the places he had longed for in his childhood.

Most days Harry worked in a small teashop. He was comfortable with the regular clientele and the owner, Mrs. Aven doted on him like a son.

Harry should have known this particular day was going to take a turn when he opened up the shop. At a lull in the morning rush, Hermione and Ron walked in and took a seat at a corner table. . The trio smiled at each other and Harry called out to Mrs. Aven he would take a quick break. After being waved away, Harry quickly set up a tea tray along with scones and went to join his friends.

After hugs all around and the pouring of the tea, the couple filled Harry in on the magical gossip. Harry listened but honestly didn't care. The magical world had done him no favors and he was glad to be free. It was Hermione's next statement, however, that knocked his socks off.

"The ministry is trying to figure out what can they do to convince you to come back."

Swallowing a scalding Mouthful of tea, Harry could only stare for a moment. Ron's face creased with worry.

"You alright, mate?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Why would they think I'd come back? They got everything they wanted from me. I have nothing left to give."

Hermione took sip of tea before answering. "People are starting to question the ministry. They want to know what happened to make you leave the wizarding world behind. They want to know if the ministry did something to you or forced you into hiding."

Harry was furious. "In other words, they want to trot me out like a show dog to quiet the people then leave."

Hermione began "it's not like that..." but Ron interrupted.

"It's exactly like that, Mione! Why can't they just let Harry be?"

Harry could tell this was an argument his friends had had before. Before it went bad, Harry intervened

"I did what was asked of me and I'll do no more. I know they are you guys bosses but I no longer have any obligation to them."

There was a tense silence between the friends. Harry drained his cup and looked both his friends in the eye. 

"I am happy with my life here. I can live without the fear of danger. I can live without people alternately hero-worshipping me or being terrified that I am Voldemort reincarnated. These people know me as James Evans, struggling artist and teashop employee. For once, I am normal, behind the scenes, just a face in the crowd."

Hermione sighed, realizing the futility of her argument. She could see that Harry was finally at peace. "Look, I'll let the ministry know that you have no desire to return.” Then with a sly look that let both Harry and Ron know she was cooking up something, she added. "Maybe a few words to the Daily Prophet would get them off your back."

Not daring to even ask what her devious mind was cooking up, Harry glanced at the clock on the wall. 

"My break is up, guys. I might be around next week. You know I have a few pieces to finish up for my show."

Both Ron and Hermione beamed. "Oy, mate. How could we have forgotten our resident artist? Good going, mate!” Ron clapped him on the back. 

"I'm excited for you, Harry! Your first real showing." Hermione chimed in.

Blushing, Harry began to clear the tea things. "It’s not like I'm showing at the National Gallery. It's just a small show in a tiny gallery. 

Hermione disagreed. "It is a big deal. You are on your way!”

Waving away the praise, Harry bade his friends farewell and returned to work,

ooOOoo

The remainder of his shift was uneventful. Leaving at the end of the lunch rush, Harry took the short walk to the tube station. It was about three in the afternoon and Harry enjoyed being in the crowded streets. Many of his art ideas came from being in the crowd and something catching his eye. As he descended the stairs to the station, a magical pulse tickled the edge of his senses. In the muggle world, it was easy to feel the magic that emanated from other hidden magical beings. Harry typically ignored them but the pull of the magical signature seemed to call out to him.

Scanning the crowd on the packed platform, Harry didn't see any one stand out. The wait for the train was not long and Harry let the moment pass as he surged forward with the crowd. It was not until the train started moving did he realized the signature was stronger. 

He knew the bearer of the signal was extremely powerful. Reaching out with his own magic, Harry felt the magic of the unknown person push back. As he began to draw his own back in, Harry was surprised to feel the unknown magic coil around his for a brief moment. Once released, Harry drew his in and began to visually scan the crowd. His eyes were eventually drawn to a strikingly handsome young man who met his gaze with such intensity; Harry eventually blushed and looked away.

After a few moments, Harry decided to risk another glance. The man was staring out the window, seemingly deep in thought. Taking advantage of the stranger's inattention, Harry noted his jet-black hair with a slight wave and his intense dark eyes. He was tall and pale but his cheeks were flushed. Harry was struck by how handsome he was and couldn't help but wonder was he exuding that magic. The car was so crowded and Harry couldn't really get a bead on the source. Besides his stop was next and soon the mini-adventure would be over. 

Harry sighed. _"It was fun while it lasted."_ Moving towards the door as the train pulled into his stop. Shouldering his bag, Harry dared look back at the stranger. To his surprise, the stranger was watching him intently again. As the crowd moved Harry towards the exit, a ghost of a smile touched the stranger's lips. With a small head bow, the stranger bid harry farewell as he moved off the train. 

ooOOoo

Over the next several days, Harry obsessed over the stranger. Everywhere he went, he looked for the man with no luck. Even Mrs. Aven noticed how distracted he was and wanted to send him home to rest. His sketch pad was filled with drawings of the man and he hadn't been able to focus on any other work. Harry was glad that Hermione and Ron had already visited. He knew Hermione would have noticed his state immediately and badgered him until he revealed every thing. It was something he wasn't ready to talk about yet. He knew that he wasn't necessarily interested in women but neither had he pursued anyone of the same sex either. With everything that happened to him in the past, Harry was ok with not being romantically entangled with anyone. Now, his mind wouldn't let go of a stranger on the train. 

In an act of final desperation, Harry decided to paint a picture of the person. It took him the better part of three evenings working but he was pleased when he finished. Standing back to admire his work, harry was glad to see that he had captured the man's intensity as well as his handsomeness. In Harry’s opinion, it looked as if the man was going to speak at any moment. Tearing his eyes away, he moved the canvas to side in order to dry and began working on another piece. 

The few weeks before Harry's show passed quickly. The owner of the small gallery stopped by Harry's flat to choose a few more paintings to add to the ones that had already been selected for the show. Knowing how overzealous his patron, Marc, could be, Harry remained in the background, allowing the man to browse at his leisure. 

"I must say, James, there are so many fantastic pieces here. I don't know what to choose."

Harry smiled. "You can pick whatever you like. I'm just thrilled for them to be in a showing."

Scoffing, Marc continued to look through the paintings. "Nonsense! It was just a matter of time before someone discovered how incredible you are!" Marc stopped talking, gasping in surprise. When Harry looked to see what grabbed his attention, he saw it was the painting of the stranger. 

"I must take this one, James! It's wonderful! I feel like I'm waiting for him to speak! I’ve never seen you paint a person before!"

With a sigh, Harry debated his options. He could insist on not sending that particular picture but he knew Marc would push back just as hard. Harry wasn't ready to examine his attachment to a painting of a stranger. Reluctantly, he consented. 

"Go on and take it. But," Harry added. "It's not for sale! It's a personal piece and I want it back after the show." 

Marc frowned for a moment, and then beamed. "Deal. Once people see your portrait work, they will want to sit for you to paint theirs! 

Shaking his head, Harry watched as Marc wrapped the painting and four others before he left.

Later that night, as Harry lay in bed, he felt like he had lost his best friend. 

ooOOoo

Harry stood with Ron and Hermione as people milled around the gallery, studied the paintings.

"Everything is simply wonderful, Harry." Hermione whispered in Harry's ear, mindful of the fact that the people present only knew him as James Evans. 

Basking in the glow of the admiration from the people present and his friends, Harry was on cloud 9. "Thanks, Mione. I'm so glad you two came."

Ron scoffed. "You know we wouldn't have missed this for the world, mate."

Harry grinned. "I know but I still appreciate it." 

The trio beamed at each other, and then Hermione gasped. "I knew I forgot to show you something!" Reaching in her bag, she pulled out a copy of the Daily Prophet. Harry took a quick look around to make sure no one noticed.

"It's been transfigured to look like a copy of the London Times."

Harry smiled his thanks and began to eagerly read. 

**Where is Harry Potter and why doesn't he want to come back?**

_The wizarding world has been asking this question for few years now since ‘The Boy Who Lived’ disappear from view. Rumors had him hiding in another country or *gasp* living as a muggle! This intrepid reporter has learned from a confidential source that Harry is indeed hiding in plain sight and wants to live in peace. A quote from the source says that Harry is perfectly happy living in obscurity and wishes the ministry would allow him to live a quiet and peaceful life. In fact, the source questions why Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt is so eager for Harry to be in the public eye. This reporter wonders as well. A peaceful life is the least we can give him after he has saved every witch and wizard from a fate worse than death._

_I don't think that's too much to ask from our hero, now is it?_

 

Harry laughed as he finished the article. “At least this means you won’t have any request from Kingsley for a while.”

Hermione laughed as well. “True. Since this article has come out, owls have been coming in fast and furiously. Even howlers have been coming in saying let you be free!”

“Even mum sent one! She says as long as you come by and visit, she is glad you are happy.” Ron added, joining in the laughter.

Before Harry could reply, he could see Marc heading towards him, his face covered in a huge smile. 

“James, everything is going great! There are many offers for your paintings and you have become the critics’ darling! By morning, life as you know it will be changed forever!”

Harry blushed. “Thanks, Marc. It’s really great that you gave me the space to show my work.”

“James, this is just a room. Your work is the masterpiece. If your friends would excuse us, I have someone I’d like you to meet.”

Promising to see his friends before they left, Harry walked across the room with Marc. It was a slow trip. Many of the guests wanted to meet the artist and complement him on his art. “James” was gracious and charmed many of the guests with his modesty. Finally reaching the other side of the room, Harry felt his heart stop beating. In front of him stood the man who he had seen on the train those weeks ago and in his obsession, painted the portrait. 

“James, this is Tom. He is most interested one of your paintings.”

Harry felt the world begin to fade as he struggled with identity of the person in front of him. This person was the stranger on the train. Harry couldn’t help but wonder if Tom had seen the portrait. Cursing his luck and summoning his Gryffindor courage, Harry extended his hand to the man.  
“Good evening, I’m James Evans. Thank you for coming out.”

Returning the handshake, Tom stared intently at Harry. “Something about this show just called me. I must say I was pleasantly surprised.” 

Marc beamed and excused himself, mumbling about seeing to the guests, leaving Harry alone with Tom. Feeling squirmy under his intense gaze, Harry decided to divert his attention. 

“Why don’t you show me the picture you were interested in? Maybe I can share my inspiration behind it.”

With a slight nod of agreement, Tom led the way through the crowded gallery. Stopping in front of the portrait, Tom turned to Harry with a slight smirk. 

“I was surprised to see myself as a part of the show.”

Harry blushed and stammered. “I can have it taken down. It was just, I saw you on a train a few weeks ago and I couldn’t forget your face.”

Taking in the artist’s blushing visage, Tom felt a surge of lust. The pull of Harry’s strong magic plus the innocence that seemed to embrace him was intoxicating and made Tom only want to possess him more. 

Tom smiled. “I must say, I’m flattered that you found me so…memorable.”

Before Harry had a chance to respond, Marc reappeared. 

“Tom, I do hope you don’t mind me taking James from you. The Times wants a few pictures.”

Nodding to Marc, Tom turned his intense gaze to Harry. “Not at all. I’m sure James and I will have a chance to talk again.”

Speechless under the weight of Tom’s intense gaze, Harry could only incline his head in return, allowing himself to be pulled away by the chattering Marc. Harry’s mind was a million miles away. He didn’t know what it was about Tom but he had a strong feeling he would eventually find out.


	2. Chapter 2

The week after the show was a flurry of activity for Harry. He still spent his mornings at the teashop but afternoons were spent sorting through requests for his art pieces. True to Marc's prediction, several people wanted to sit for portraits. Harry realized quickly why he didn’t like to do portraits. The logistics of just scheduling alone was enough to infuriate him. By the end of the week, Harry was ready to leave to city and take solace in a peaceful countryside and just paint.

Mrs. Aven, bless her, could sense Harry's growing frustration and insisted he take a week off. At first, Harry protested. He knew she needed the help and he didn't want to leave her in a bind. Scoffing, Mrs. Aven eased some of his worries.

"My nephew will be here day after tomorrow. He'll be working in the shop, the lazy bugger! It'll give you a day to plan and get your holiday together. I'll work you twice as hard when you get back.” 

Before Harry could respond, the shop phone rang and she turned to answer it. Moving to clear tables, Harry was surprised to be called back to the phone.

"James, my boy! You really should get a cell phone. Marc's jovial voice boomed through the phone lines. "When you leave work, can you stop by my office? I have a proposal for you."

Frowning, Harry replied. "You know I'm not a fan of phones. What kind of proposal?"

He could hear Marc chuckle through the phone. "I told you your portrait would be popular. You've been presented an offer I think you'll love. You'd be crazy to not at least listen to it." 

Harry sighed. "Alright but no guarantees."

Ringing off, he firmly turned his mind back to work. His intentions were to hear the proposal out, turn it down and take his week holiday hiding out from everyone and painting to his heart's content.

 

Ooooo

 

"You have got to be kidding?" Harry's eyes widening upon hearing his patron's offer.

Marc’s face was completely serious as he pulled out several papers and passed them to Harry. As Harry read and absorbed the information, Marc explained.

"This mystery benefactor wants you to come out to his manor and spend a week painting. With the exception of painting his portrait, you would be given free rein to the grounds, the gardens and surrounding woods."

Harry could not believe to fortuitous turn if events but his magical senses were also on hyper alert. 

"What’s the catch? This is a little too good to be true.”

Marc agreed. "I thought so too, but he left two things to show his sincerity." and he passed Harry two envelopes. The first contained a check for 50,000 pounds. Speechless, Harry could only stare at Marc.

Marc continued. "The second he said you would understand."

Hands shaking as he broke the seal of the second note, Harry couldn't stop the gasp as he saw its contents. 

"When will I be expected to arrive?"

Ooooo

Harry's mind was still rolling as he walked the streets of muggle London. Heading to magical London, Harry tried to calm his mental processes. When he met with Hermione, he was well aware that she would notice any trace of emotional upset and try to convince him to turn down the offer. Ducking into an alley, Harry applied a quick glamour. His dark hair became sandy blond and his green eyes were a clear blue. His infamous scar was also gone. Reaching the entrance of Diagon Alley, Harry took out his wand, let out a deep breath, and tapped out the pattern on the bricks. 

After living in the muggle world, the weight of the magic floating freely in the air felt like a lead cloak to Harry. He knew a lot of the oppression came from his feeling regarding the perceptions of the community. He had no desire to carry their burdens and he never wanted to be "the savior". If it hadn't been for the Weasleys and Hermione, he would have completely turned his back on this all together. Instead, he maintained contact and kept in touch with his friends, hiding his presence from the rest of the wizarding world and that suited him just fine. 

Harry could see Hermione waiting at their favorite outdoor café table. She was alone as Ron was off on an auror’s job for the ministry. With a momentary pang, Harry thought about what could have been, he and Ron out together on cases but he had made his choice and to be honest, he didn’t want to turn back. Having been spotted by Hermione, Harry returned her wave and hurried to join her.

As they enjoyed their early dinner, Hermione filled Harry in on family business. Harry shared the different offers he had received after the gallery showing, leaving the big offer for last. Pulling the envelope out of his pocket, he waited while she read it.

“Whoever sent you this knows you're a wizard. But how?”

Taking a sip of tea, Harry shrugged. “I don’t know but the letter contains the crest of Hogwarts and information only available to someone who is also magical."

Hermione’s face was a mask of worry. “Are you sure this is safe?”

Again Harry shrugged. “I think it’s safer to go voluntarily than to wait and see if I’d be forced. Besides, the money is wonderful. I can actually get that space I’ve been looking at for a studio and stop painting in my spare room.”

Hermione looked over the letter again. “Well, if you feel it’ll be fine, then I say go. At least with it being magical, we’ll have a means to communicate with you. How will you get there?”

“The letter with the check said instructions would be waiting for me at my flat. I was rather curious about that myself.” Harry was suddenly ready to leave. He had forgotten that tidbit of information worrying about his return to the magical world but know his curiosity kicked in. Hermione recognized the look in his eyes and smiled.

“Get out of here, Harry and go find out! Let me know when you do.” Her smile faded for a second and she touched the back of his hand. “Do be careful. No unnecessary risks, okay?”

Harry smiled and patted her hand. “No risks period. I gave that up a long time ago.”

ooOOoo

A package sat waiting in Harry's box. Resisting the urge to shake the box, Harry waited until he was safely locked in his flat before he opened it. It contained a note sitting on top of another sealed box. 

_'When you are ready to depart, activate the portkey by touching it. It will bring you to my estate.'_

Harry carefully opened the smaller box. The box contained a small dark green metal ball with a black ribbon tied through a loop on the end. There was no signature on the note and nothing in the box to even give a hint of who the mystery person could possibly be. After a few more minutes staring, Harry placed the box on a high shelf and decided to spend his evening painting. At least that would take his mind off wondering what had he gotten himself into.

ooOOoo

 

Two days later, Harry stood out in an isolated field on the outskirts of London. Making sure he was truly alone, he tightened the straps of his duffel and lifted the portkey out by the ribbon. Debating for the last time about the wisdom of this decision, Harry clasped the metal ball in his hand. Feeling that dreaded 'hook' behind his navel, Harry hurdled along to his destination. What seemed like forever but actually only took a few moment, Harry stumbled along the ground as he came to a stop, fighting to maintain his balance. Once he was finally steady, Harry had to gawk at his surroundings.

A stately country home was directly in front of him. The grounds leading up to the home were beautiful gardens filled with all types of blooming flowers, magnificent colors and perfumes overwhelming Harry's senses. As he moved up the stone walk leading to the door, he could feel the wards open to allow him entrance. He felt almost giddy as he saw so many things that could be the subject of his paintings. Mysterious host aside, Harry could see where this would be a very pleasant and productive week. 

ooOOoo

Tom was dressing when Panky, one of the house elves, popped in. 

"Master Potter has arrived, sir."

Not turning from his mirror, Tom gave out instructions. "For the moment, only greet him as Sir. Make sure the private dining room is prepared for lunch. I'll be down to greet him momentarily"

With a bow, Panky popped out. Whispering an incantation, Tom applied a glamour to change his features to the man Harry met on the train. It wouldn't do to scare him out of his mind before Tom's agenda was firmly in place. Dusting imaginary dust off his dress robes, Tom went downstairs to join his special guest for lunch.

ooOOoo

As Harry stepped onto the porch of the grand home, the door was opened by a house elf clad in a spotless tea towel.

"Greetings, sir. If you'd follow me please."

Speechless, Harry could only follow orders as he was led through a grand foyer to what had to be a private dining room. It was exquisitely furnished but small in comparison to the house. Harry was further surprised as another elf appeared at his elbow.

"I'll take your bag, sir." 

Harry hesitated for a moment before relinquishing his bag. The first house elf pulled a chair and Harry sat down to the elegantly appointed table. As the house elf popped out, Harry was surprised to hear a voice behind him. 

"Good afternoon, Mr. Evans. I'm thrilled you decided to take me up on my offer."

Turning to finally see his mysterious benefactor, Harry was stunned to see it was stranger form the train, now known as Tom. 

"You seem surprised." Tom smiled, moving to take his seat opposite from Harry. 

Flushing, Harry replied. "I must say that I am. Why all the secrecy?"

Instead of answering the question, Tom snapped his fingers and Panky appeared. "We're ready for lunch now." 

Waiting until the dishes appeared and gesturing Harry to begin eating, Tom began his explanation.

"That evening on the train, I could feel your magical signature. Only the truly power could emit one so strong. Imagine my surprise when I felt it again passing the gallery. I was even more surprised to discover my portrait hanging as a display. I must say I was flattered."

Meeting Tom's intense gaze Harry felt his face heat further. "Thank you, I'm glad you liked it. You certainly went through a great deal of trouble to arrange this."

"Nonsense." Tom replied. "I'm sure you'll see that it was worth the trouble. As for the secrecy, because you had gone through so much trouble to keep that particular knowledge from the muggles around you, I simply chose to respect your wishes."

Lunch continued with the two men making small talk. The meal was enjoyable and Harry was surprised to find he was disappointed for it to end. Tom insisted on showing him the grounds before taking Harry to his room. Harry was pleased to discover several gardens existed on the estate, ranging from manicured English gardens to wild growing gardens filled with wildflowers. The air practically sang with activity from the animals and the heady perfume filled Harry's senses. 

"This is beautiful! Thank you so much for offering me the opportunity. I can envision so many pictures already."

Tom smiled. "No, James. I'm the one who is grateful that you accepted my invitation. Now let me show you to your rooms so you can get settled before you get started."

Harry was led through the huge home. He tried to pay attention to twists and turns but was still hopelessly lost. Finally stopping in front of a massive door, Tom opened it into one of the most luxurious suite of rooms he had been in ever. Stepping into the dark paneled sitting room, there was what appeared to be a comfortable couch in front of a large fireplace. The room also contained a large desk and harry could see wrapped bundles stacked neatly on top of it. Tom noticed Harry's perusal of the bundles.

"I took the liberty of ordering your supplies. I wasn't sure how much you would be able to bring with you via portkey."

Still in awe, Harry nodded his appreciation, following Tom into the bedroom. The room was painted a very pale yellow with rugs on the dark hardwood floors for warmth. A massive four-poster bed made of the same dark wood as the floor and covered with deep red and gold linens sat in the middle of a huge room. Harry could see a large wardrobe on one side of the room and a door leading to what he could only assume was the bathroom to the right of him. The room had several floor to ceiling windows, making it bright and airy.

"This is too much." 

Tom smirked. "I quite disagree. I want you to be comfortable during your stay."

Harry couldn’t find any words to express how he felt. This was beyond what he expected. Unnoticed by him, Tom moved to the door. 

"If you need anything, just call for Panky. She can also show you how to get to the gardens. Dinner will be served at 6 so that will give you plenty of time to explore."

Before Harry could comment, Tom swept out of the room. Like a kid at Christmas, Harry returned to the sitting room and began to tear into the packages. Premium paints, brushes and canvases were all waiting for him to use. Eager to get started, Harry decided to grab a new sketchpad and retrieved his pencils from his duffle. Once settled in the garden, Harry soon lost himself to the calm of nature. 

ooOOoo

Tom watched from his study window as Harry worked in the garden. He was willing to give in a couple of days to grow accustomed to the place and his presence but he was more than ready to make his move. He knew all of _James’s_ secrets and peeling away the veneer of duplicity would be sweeter.

_"Soon, my pet. Soon you will know the truth and you'll be mine forever."_


	3. Chapter 3

Harry quickly settled into a leisurely routine. Mornings were spent in his rooms, where he was served breakfast. He would also check in with Hermione through a Floo call. The remainder of his morning was dedicated to sorting through his sketches. After two days, he had a sketchpad full and he hadn't been through the entire garden yet. Afternoons were spent in the gardens, where he easily lost himself in his work. Food never crossed his mind until Panky appeared, mildly scolding him. He graciously thanked her, which seem to placate her. Around three or so, Harry stopped working and returned to his rooms. He showered and napped until time for dinner.

Tom insisted on dressing for dinner but Harry had not bought robes in years. The morning after his arrival, Harry was only moderately surprised to awaken to find a package containing three robes. They were made of a high quality material and Harry loved the way the felt. One was black, one was the same color as his eyes and the third was midnight blue. Having spent so long in the company of muggles, it reminded Harry too much of when he first began in Hogwarts and he had to wear robes. Choosing to wear the green robes, Harry felt rather awkward but when he saw Tom's eyes light up as he entered the dining room, Harry was unexpectedly pleased.

The remainder of the evening was spent in leisurely conversation in front of the fire, nursing glasses of firewhisky. Tom was delightful to talk with and being a fellow magical person, Harry didn't have to restrict his discussion out of fear of revealing something that would reveal the hidden magical world.

It was on the third evening when Tom began to probe deeper.

"James, we've talked a great deal about your muggle life but you haven't said much about your wizard life."

For a moment, Harry just stared into the crackling fire. As James Evans, there wasn't really much to tell. The weight of the deception in the presence of someone magical, especially someone who had been nothing but generous, was more than Harry had anticipated. 

"To be honest, there is nothing really to tell. I just got tired of living up to everyone's demands and decided to pursue a quieter and simpler life."

Tom didn't respond. He knew that was the truth. What he wanted was the whole story from Harry on why he really left the wizarding world. Making a quick decision, Tom decided to play his first card.

"You know, there are rumors about the disappearance of Harry Potter. Supposedly he vanished into the muggle world."

To his credit, Harry didn't externally flinch but his heart rate sped up. "I can understand why he would have decided to do such a thing." he replied far more calmly than he felt. The smile Tom gave in response did nothing to ease Harry's feelings of impending doom. It promised darker revelations and the possible opening of old wounds.

"I'm sure serving as the puppet to a society without a collective brain in their heads was demoralizing. I understand why he might have chosen to walk away. I just think it is so interesting that as Harry Potter disappears, you appear, James Evans, from out of nowhere. No family, no background, just a man attempting to hide his powerful magical self. Most interesting coincidence". Taking a sip of his firewhisky, Tom looked directly into Harry's eyes, daring him contradict him.

"So you had me checked out?" was Harry's only response

Chuckling, Tom raised a brow. "But of course. I couldn't just give my money to anyone." 

Harry frowned but his curiosity was winning out. "So if I am who you believe me to be, why risk having me here?" 

A dark smile broke out on Tom's face, sending a shiver down Harry's spine. 

"You don't realize how alluring you are, do you James? Or should we drop the subterfuge and I just call you Harry?" 

Harry sighed, known he had been found out. "Fine, as long as that information does not leave this manor."

"Of course, Harry. But you didn’t answer my question."

The confusion was apparent on Harry's face. “Your question?" 

"You don't realize how alluring you are, do you?"

With a blush burning across his face, Harry couldn't think of any type of witty comeback. Tom unleashed his control over his own magic, allowing it to feel the room and wrap around Harry. 

"You see, Harry, only the truly powerful can appreciate the feel of someone else’s powerful magic. Lesser beings are intimidated, even afraid. They feel the power and realize they are helpless against it, therefore they fear it. 

Tightening his magic around Harry, Tom allowed it to move as gentle as a caress against the younger male. 

"As long as they could control you, it was fine, wasn't it?"

Giddy from the feel of the strong magic surrounding him, Harry's voice came out almost whisper low.

"Yes. Then the rumors started. I was plotting to take over the ministry and the world. The articles in the Daily Prophet only fed the flames. I had enough and walked away. Now they are begging me to come back because they are afraid someone or something is coming. Everyone is trying to hunt me down but because they have no experience in the muggle world, they don’t know how to use muggle methods to find me."

Tom began to seethe as he felt Harry's magic rise in response to his remembered anger. Tapping down his own feelings, he continued to wrap Harry in his calming magic. 

"How would you feel, Harry, if another Dark Lord rose into power?"

"To be honest, with the exception of my friends, I wouldn't care. I never signed up to save the world. I was forced through manipulation and deception." Harry gave a brittle, dark laugh. "Hell, I might even be willing to help the bloke out"

"Really?” Tom asked. There was no judgment or derision in his voice, just curiosity.

"Well, yes. I can see now some of the things Voldemort wanted for the wizarding world could have worked but his methods were the problem. If he had used his skill and charm the right way, he could have run the ministry." 

"But Harry," Tom countered. “Fear is such a powerful weapon.".

Harry agreed. "But eventually, someone will become tired of being afraid and fight back"

Tom was taken by surprise at the depth of knowledge and strategic cunning Harry possessed as he pointed out critical tactical errors. There were mistakes Tom could see he had made from the beginning. Tom realized Dumbledore had fooled him into thinking of Harry as an enemy to keep him from realizing Harry would have been a more powerful ally. 

_“A situation I soon plan to rectify.”_

ooOOoo

When he rose the next morning, Harry was surprised at how carefree he felt. Living with the burden of his secret was easier in the muggle world because most of them did not believe in magic in the first place. The pressure of being Harry Potter in the magical world was a heavy burden with the weight of everyone’s expectations. Confessing to Tom felt…

_“Liberating.”_ Harry sighed as he stretched lazily in bed. He knew Panky would be popping in soon with breakfast, so he rose and moving to the bathroom, quickly showered. As he finished dressing, Panky appeared right on schedule with a food-laden tray. While eating, Harry briefly wondered how much weight he would have gained at the end of the holiday. Casting a tempus, he saw it was almost time for Hermione’s call. Snagging the last piece of jam covered toast and tea from the tray; he went into the sitting room. 

“Good morning, Harry!” The cheerful voice greeted him from the fireplace. 

“Right on time as always. Good morning, Hermione.” Harry replied, taking a seat at the chair positioned in front of the fire. 

The floating head smiled at Harry. “How are you? Are you still enjoying yourself?”

“I am.” Harry replied. “Last night took an interesting turn.”

Hermione frowned. “Really? How so?”

“He knows, Hermione.” Harry replied. There was a long pause and Harry could see her struggle to maintain her composure. 

“But how?” She finally gasped the shocked look on her face almost comical on a floating head.

Harry shrugged. “He had me checked out and with the gaps in James Evans’ life and the timing of his appearance and the disappearance of Harry Potter, led him to that conclusion.”

Hermione still frowned. “He must have spent a tremendous amount of galleons! There should been no links between your magical life and your muggle one.” Hermione sounded offended. “I made sure of that.”

“It’s not your fault.” Harry quickly tried to placate his friend. “Tom obviously had resources to dig deeper than most would bother. I’m sure if the ministry put forth any REAL effort they could have done it themselves instead of sending messages through you and Ron.”

Hermione sighed. “I suppose you’re right, Harry. How do you feel about this?”

Thinking for a moment, Harry finally responded. “At least in his presence, I feel fine about him knowing the truth. He has no expectations of me and he hasn't asked for anything, except his portrait. We’ve been talking about several issues we both have with the wizarding world.” Coloring slightly, Harry continued. “I’ve been enjoying his company.”

“Sounds like someone has a crush.” Hermione teased, a smile lighting up her face. 

Harry’s face turned bright red. “It’s nothing like that. It’s just nice to be myself around someone besides you and the other Weasleys.”

Hermione laughed then her voice became serious. “Well, Harry, do be careful. We still don’t know much about this benefactor of yours, not even his last name. I’ll do some more digging on my end but I’ve had no luck so far.”

Harry brushed off her concern. “In four days, I’ll be gone from here forever. Don’t stress about this.”

Hermione’s frown stayed in place. 

“Don’t be so sure, Harry. I have a strange feeling Tom will be around a lot longer than you think.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The italics represent the flashback for this chapter. I hope you enjoy!

Harry worked late into the night, pouring all of his stress into the portrait of Tom. As he painted, he struggled through his conflicted feelings. He had grown attracted to Tom during the short time he had been in his presence. Whenever he was around Tom, Harry could feel the pull of his magic being drawn to Tom. At this moment, however, he was more disturbed by the dark tone their earlier conversation had taken. Everything he had believed had been torn asunder and now Harry was trapped in a web of his own making. His refusal to deal with the wizarding world had made him vulnerable to the one thing he never thought he’d miss…magic.

ooOOoo

_As they usually spent their evenings, Harry and Tom were found sitting in front of the fire in Tom’s darkened study. The quietness was calming but little did Harry know the changes that were getting ready to take place in his life._

_“What would you say, Harry, if I told you the Dark Lord had not died? What if I told you he was still alive?” Tom casually asked, sipping his fire whiskey and watching Harry closely.  
Harry’s heart began to race even though he knew the things that Tom spoke were untrue. _

_“Impossible! I kil…I saw him die.”_

_Tom leaned forward, the fire causing his eyes to glow red. “You saw his BODY die. Where was his soul, Harry?”_

_Pushing back into cushions of the chair, Harry felt an icy finger slide down his spine. “They were in his horcruxes. They were destroyed.”_

_Sitting back, Tom was quiet as he took a sip of his firewhiskey. “What do you know about the ancient rituals of necromancers?”_

_“Not much.” Harry admitted, a frown developing on his face. “It’s one of the darkest forms of magic.”_

_“It’s death magic. There are witches out that that revive the dead, returning souls intact to their bodies.” Tom stood, moving to stare into the fire. His voice was low and Harry had to strain to hear him._

_“There have been those who have the magic to bring those from back beyond the veil.”_

_Harry scowled. “They are inferi. Nothing more than shells. They don’t have a true life.”_

_Turning, the smile Tom gave sent chills through Harry. “There are shamans, the Honons, in China who can perform rituals designated to call a soul back from the spiritual plane.”_

_“Voldemort’s soul was in pieces. Each piece was destroyed separately.” Harry insisted, not liking where this conversation was heading._

_Tom continued to push, sensing Harry’s growing unease. “There are those practioners who are dark, who can walk the spirit world and collect the fragmented soul pieces and make them whole.”_

_“No.” Harry whispered, his face going pale. Tom knew it was time to drop the ruse and share everything._

_“Once you released my last soul fragment, my remaining faithful gathered my body and spirited it to China. It took months of spirit walking to collect all the pieces of my lost soul but it worked. My body was preserved by a stasis spell until it was complete.”_

_Harry went white as he realized the change in the story._

_“Your…soul?”_

_Tom stood and without uttering a word dropped the glamour he had worn over his features. Harry stared dumbfounded into the face of an older version of the Tom Marvolo Riddle he med in the Chamber of Secrets._

_“No!” He gasped, standing and frantically searching for a way out. He knew there were anti-apparition wards on the house but he just wanted to get out of the room. The darkness of the room took on an ominous tone and the walls suddenly seemed like they were closing in on Harry._

_“Oh YES, Harry, MY soul.” As the glamour faded, Voldemort unleashed his magic, forcing Harry to his knees. The darkness of the magic surrounded Harry and he could feel it calling him to give in and embrace it. Rising clumsily to his feet, Harry moved away until his back hit a wall. Voldemort moved closer. Trapped against the wall, Harry was prevented from escaping until Voldemort was ready to release him._

_“After you “killed” me, I was in limbo. My last conscience memory was our battle. When I awakened, more than a year had passed.”_

_“Bu… your appearance?” Harry asked, curiosity winning for the moment. This was not the Voldemort Harry remembered from the battle._

_Voldemort gave a mirthless chuckle. “It would seem with the collection of all my soul pieces, my appearance was restored along with most of my sanity.”_

_Taking a deep breath, Harry attempted to collect his thoughts as the implications of his situation sank deeper into his mind._

_“You had no intentions of letting me leave, did you?” He asked, angry that he had been so easily fooled._

_A sinister smile crossed Voldemort’s face. “None at all, Harry. Do you know how long it took me to find you? It was nearly impossible because you refused to use magic. It was by the sheerest of chances I came across one of your paintings. I recognized the magical signature but not the name.”_

_As Harry looked at him with a look of incredulity on his face, Voldemort gave a genuine laugh.  
“I’ll admit it wasn’t one of my brightest moments. How noble of you to honor your parents. A little tracking and I was connected with your muggle agent.”_

_Harry started, his hearted leaping in his chest. “You found Marc? Did you hurt him? Did you use magic on him?”_

_“No foolish boy! Nothing of the sort.” Voldemort snapped, his voice momentarily tight with anger. “Your muggle was so excited for the money and the opportunity to show your work. He believes in your talent and my offer was too great for him to pass up.”_

_Moving even closer, Voldemort pressed his body against Harry, his voice in Harry’s ear, dark yet seductive._

_“Don’t you feel it? You magic is drawn to mine. Light and dark, yin and yang. Dumbledore was wrong. We are two parts of the same soul. We both died and returned to this plane, yet our magic, our souls are still drawn to each other. You lived a miserable existence, an empty life. You had your art. Do you really believe you would have been content, buried in the muggle world behind the counter of a coffee shop forever? Did you think you could shed your magical roots as easily as you remove your shoes? You were missing something and that’s why you walked away.”_

_Harry tried to ignore the weight of the body pressing against him. He tried to tune out the truth of the words he was hearing. He HAD been hollow in the time following the demise of Voldemort. That hollowness made it easy to walk away from the wizarding world. He wanted to pretend that he didn’t feel the pull of Tom…no, Voldemort’s magic. Nothing in years had felt the same as its seductive allure. It whispered dark promises and danger._

_It felt GOOD._

_Voldemort kept his face impassive as he watched Harry struggle through a range of emotions. He resisted the urge to use occullmancy on the younger wizard but Harry had always been an easy read. Even with maturity, Harry’s emotions still showed on his face. He knew his words would give Harry something to think about when he returned to his rooms. Making the decision, Voldemort backed  
away, giving the younger male breathing room. _

_“I know you need time to digest what has been said. Return to your room and rest, my Harry and we’ll talk more tomorrow._

_ooOOoo_

_Harry could barely remember stumbling out of the study, his thoughts a jumbled mess. It wasn’t until he reached his room did the trembling overtake him. Sinking to the floor, his legs couldn’t support him any longer. Harry’s mind raced, the words of Voldemort still running through his head. It made him feel as if everything had been a lie. Knowing sleep would be impossible, Harry stood  
once the trembling subsided and took out his art supplies. Painting would allow him to focus and then he consider a plan of action._

ooOOoo

As the sun breached the horizon, an exhausted Harry stared at the portrait of Tom, no, now Voldemort. He had modified the image of the “new” Tom. He was bone tired and his mind had finally calmed. A little sleep would help him collect his strength and mental clarity before he had to face Voldemort again. As he pulled off his clothes, he wondered if Hermione would be able to fire call now that he knew the truth about his “benefactor”. It wasn’t the first time Harry wished he had listened more to the cautious voice of Hermione. For the moment, he was a prisoner, pampered but nevertheless, a prisoner. 

“There has to be a way to warn Hermione.” Harry thought as he climbed into bed. He knew there would be a few hours before Panky showed up for breakfast. Sleep first then he would plot his escape.


	5. Chapter 5

"Master, the young master has yet to awaken." Panky reported to Voldemort. 

"Did he try to harm himself last evening?" Voldemort asked, frowning slightly. 

"No, Master." Panky replied. "But he did stay awake painting."

Voldemort looked away from his papers. "Leave him be for the moment. I'll check on him shortly."

With a bow, Panky left to do her master's bidding. 

Finishing his correspondence, Voldemort refused his mind to stray to thoughts of Harry, focusing on his task. Once done, he left his study and as he moved swiftly down the hall of the manor, Voldemort contemplated the change in circumstances. He had known Harry would take the news hard but as far as Voldemort was concerned, the time for playing games was over. While Harry's stay at the manor would be under duress, Voldemort needed Harry to be a willing participant for the next step of his plan. Harry's lifestyle had made it too easy for Voldemort to take him away. With the exception of the Weasleys, no one in the wizarding world had laid eyes on Harry in years. Over time, they had practically made him a mythical figure.

This definitely worked to his advantage. Voldemort knew it would take time and effort to sway Harry and he learned his lesson from the last vanquishing. For the bond to be successful, Harry would have to give himself willingly. The combination of their magical power would be unstoppable. Wizarding Britain was in for a rude awakening. 

ooOOoo

Arriving at Harry's rooms, Voldemort looked around at the drawings that filled the sitting room. The main thing that caught his eye was his own portrait. It was apparent that Harry had spent the night adjusting the image from the glamorized one to his true visage. Steely red eyes peered out from a strong face and Voldemort could feel the magic the practically oozed out of the portrait. He could now understand why Harry was tired. It was obvious that Harry had used a great deal of his magic while painting. Summoning Panky, the elf instantly appeared. 

"Allow the young master to rest. It seems he had drained a great deal of his magic. Silencing charms on the room and make sure a meal is ready for him the second he awakens."

Panky bowed. "Yes, my lord. Will there be anything else?"

"Has the Weasley woman been in contact?"

"Not yet, my Lord but it should be soon." Panky replied. 

Nodding, Voldemort dismissed the elf with a wave of his hand and moved into Harry's bedroom. The curtains were drawn against the morning sun, casting dim shadows around the room. Harry was sprawled across the bed, lying on his stomach. A shadow of a beard marred his cheeks driving the point home to Voldemort that he was no longer dealing with the boy from his memories. Harry had become a man: a handsome, talented, magically strong man. Harry was here and this is where he would stay. A surge of possessiveness raged through Voldemort. 

_"He is mine!"_ Voldemort thought with savage pleasure. _"MINE!"_

ooOOoo

Harry woke by mid-afternoon, confused and ravenous. As he sat up and stretched, Panky popped in. 

"Would the young master be liking his meal now?"

Frowning at the title, Harry threw the covers back. "After I shower, then I'll be ready."

Showering quickly, Harry exited the bathroom to see Panky had left his meal under a warming charm in the usual spot. Tucking into sausages and mash, a quick time check caused Harry to quickly lose his appetite. It was after noon meaning that he had missed Hermione's call. Shocked, he hurried to the fireplace. Tossing in floo powder, he quickly called out to Hermione. Tense moments passed as Harry waited. Panic set in as he realized there was no response and there wouldn't be one. Anger quickly replaced the fear as Harry stormed out of his suite, intent on finding the Lord of the manor. His magic spread and as it encountered the Dark Lord's, Harry moved in that direction. He found Voldemort sitting in his study, working at his desk. Harry approached, angrily slamming his hands on the polished wood.

"What have you done?"

Voldemort looked up, unperturbed by Harry's agitated appearance. He had been expecting a confrontation since Panky reported that Harry had awakened. He had felt the angry tendrils of the younger wizard's magic as he searched the manor. Voldemort liked the fire in Harry and while he wanted to control him, Voldemort wanted to keep that fire in Harry. 

"What are you assuming I've done?" Voldemort asked, his eyes dancing with amusement. His calm only served to anger Harry further. 

"Why can't I fire call Hermione? Have you cut me off from communicating with her?"

Voldemort's eyes narrowed and Harry could see the shimmer of red just below the surface of the brown pupils. "I spoke with the Weasley witch. She understands you need for solitude and won't be contacting you for the time being."

Harry was livid, his face flushed with anger. He was also terrified. "If you hurt her..." 

Before Harry could finish, Voldemort had stood and moved around the desk, his magic wrapped around Harry like a heavy blanket. 

“What would you do, Harry?" His voice seductive and dangerous as he moved closer to Harry. "Would you attempt to kill me over your little witch?"

Harry willed his body to not tremble as Voldemort got closer. The older wizard's magic felt as if it were seeping through Harry's very pores, attempting to fill his soul with its dark power. 

"I won't let you hurt my friends." Harry defiantly stated. 

Voldemort gave a dark chuckle. "How very Gryffindor of you. So noble yet so very foolish."

To his credit, Harry didn't back down. He continued to stare at the resurrected dark lord. "Have you hurt her?" He bit out.

Harry could tell he was pushing the limits with Voldemort. The magic around him tightened and threatened to strangle Harry. Buckling under the weight of it, Harry, once again, found he was kneeling at the feet of his captor.

"All you need to know is that she's alive. There will be no sending of distress signals. No appartation points are open for you. The manor is unplottable so no middle of the night rescues. All of your stunts are in the past. Accept it, you are mine and here is where you will stay until you understand your new position.

Harry, now distraught, felt his soul shatter. Last night had seemed like a nightmare, fueled by darkness and firewhiskey. However, in the bright light of day, he could no longer deny it. 

He was trapped.

He was a prisoner

The Dark Lord had captured him. Voldemort was back and Harry could warn no one. 

Wizarding Britain was doomed. 

ooOOoo

Seeing Harry break was a highlight of Voldemort's afternoon. Watching him shudder at his feet filled Voldemort’s heart with a perverse joy. He knew Harry would recover soon enough, it was his nature. To obtain Harry's willing cooperation, he would have to be completely broken and dependent of Voldemort as his "savior"

It was a challenge Voldemort was looking forward to successfully completing. Harry would soon know his place was beside him and eventually, underneath him as well.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, we get to know about the conversation with Voldemort/Tom and Hermione. Harry is also reminded of who is truly dealing with. 
> 
> _Flashback or thoughts_

Harry didn't know how he made it back to his room on his own power, the shock he was feeling overwhelming all of his senses. Flopping on the couch in front of the dead fireplace, Harry knew he had to figure out a way to get out, a way to warn everyone.

But who would believe him?

Even though years had passed, it still stung when Harry thought about how the Wizarding World didn't believe him when he told them Voldemort was back the first time. Would they see this as a bid for attention? He had been out of the public eye for so long. Someone out there would jump on the fact that he MUST be missing all the slavish devotion he had been getting. An angry snort escaped as he considered the headlines from the Daily Prophet.

_"BWL seeking attention by proclaiming the return of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."_

He knew Ron and Hermione would attempt to believe him but at the same time, with no proof, they would question his sanity. He knew they already were because he had hidden himself away from the wizarding world. He couldn't make them understand the pressure of being "Harry Potter". They thought he should bask in the glory of it all. As his friends, they should have understood how hard life had become for him. Another angry spike went through him as he considered the fact that everyone else was able to simple LIVE after the war but he was not allowed. Harry was expected to be "HARRY POTTER", the savior of the wizarding world. He was expected to be available at all times to reassure the masses that he would keep them safe. 

He was nothing more than a pawn.

Running away obviously didn't help because here he was, a pawn for the Dark Lord. Cradling his hands in his head, Harry couldn't stop the sorrow that flowed through him. The only thing he had ever wanted was his own life. From the moment his parents died, he had never been free to make any decision that he wanted for himself. The Dursleys wanted a slave. Dumbledore wanted a mindless robot. The population wanted a child to give his life for them and save them. He thought he had found a way to be free with his art but it only served to pull him into yet another trap. He had no idea what Voldemort wanted with him but he refused to let anyone else make him into his or her puppet ever again. 

ooOOoo

Voldemort was a bit perturbed but not surprised when Harry didn't show for dinner. He would let this slight slide for tonight but Harry would have to learn there would be certain expectations as his consort. As he enjoyed his dinner, Voldemort contemplated his next move. He knew that this was only a temporary break with Harry. He was strong and resilient, a trait Voldemort liked but at this moment, it was a liability. Isolating Harry would force him to realize that no one would be there for him but Voldemort. The sooner he understood that lesson, the easier life would be for him. 

As he ate his dessert, Voldemort's thoughts went back to his conversations with Harry's muggle-born witch. While his stance on muggle-borns had softened slightly, it still rankled Voldemort to have extended conversation with Hermione. He took a perverse pleasure in insinuating that Harry was still abed because of their late night "activities". He had to hold back an evil grin as the young woman blushed profusely and stuttered. 

Voldemort also made sure that she understood that the daily calls would have to stop. Once he had Harry firmly under his control, then he would consider limited contact. Until then, Harry was cut off from those who would influence him in the wrong direction. Her questions, however, made him want to curse her through the floo. 

ooOOoo

_"Is it because of his work?"_

_Voldemort snarled. "Does he have to answer to you all the time?"_

_Hermione blushed again. "No."_

_"You do realize he is an adult. His affairs are not your business. He is on holiday, after all." disparaged Voldemort, sarcasm dripping from his voice._

_"I realize that, sir! He is my friend and I'm just concerned." Hermione indigently replied._

_Unable to stop the dry chuckle at the audacity of the witch in front of him, Voldemort smoothly replied. "It seems more like you don't trust his judgment. Wasn't him saving all of you worthless beings enough to allow him to have his own life?"_

_Hermione became indignant but Voldemort cut her off before she could get into full rant. "How dare you! I..."_

_"Oh, I dare. Tell me, when you and your husband are on holiday, do you call and check in with Harry every day?"_

_"No but..." was all that Hermione could say before she was cut off again._

_"And yet you see no problem with having him report in daily? Is the ministry paying you for information?" Voldemort snidely asked._

_"We would never..." Hermione started, only to be cut off once again._

_"But you have no issues with bringing him missives from them like a dog with a bone when he has expressly told you he was not interested. What are your reasons for disregarding Harry's feelings, Mrs. Weasley?"_

_Hermione's face was as red as Ron's hair but she couldn't find words to answer Voldemort's question. She felt awful as she realized he was right. Everyone questioned every move Harry made, she and Ron included. Harry tried to explain how he felt at one point but now that she thought about, they brushed him off, figuring he would eventually come around and began to enjoy the fame he had rightly earned. Hermione could now see the longer Harry stayed in the muggle world, the more he was slowly cutting her and Ron out of his life as well. He didn't visit as often, something the elder Mrs. Weasley often complained about. Other than the occasionally dinner meet up or their visits to the coffee shop, Hermione realized Harry was slowly easing himself out of their lives. With a sudden, heart-wrenching pang, Hermione knew once Harry's art took off, he would be James Evans and Harry Potter would cease to exist._

_Voldemort watched as his cutting words sunk into the simple mind of the muggle-born. As entertaining as it was, Voldemort decided he was tired of playing this game... for the moment._

_"You will not be calling Harry. He will not be contacting you until such time I deem it practical. Are we clear, Mrs. Weasley?"_

_The sadness momentarily left Hermione's face as she bristled at Voldemort's tone. "Crystal. But you're wrong, you know."_

_Voldemort raised a single brow at the rashness of the witch. "Oh really? I'm sure you'll tell me why."_

_Hermione frowned at the disbelief in his tone. "We care about Harry. We always have."_

_Voldemort gave a chuckle that left Hermione's blood cold. "You do realize you are delusional? You care about what Harry is, not who he is. In your little selfish mind, you hold on to Harry just like those other pathetic wizards. You are living off the Boy Who Lived. You know once he is gone, your existence is meaningless. You and your spineless husband are known as the best friends of the "Boy Who Lived" and you have parlayed that into your own measure of fame. As he fades from the memory of those who no longer see him, what do you think will happen to you?"_

_Cutting off the floo, Voldemort didn't miss the shattered visage of Hermione Granger-Weasley as his pointed words hit home._

ooOOoo

After a sleepless night, Harry went to the garden to draw with the sunrise. He knew last night was only a minor reprieve. Soon, Voldemort would want to see him again and finish putting whatever his plan was into action. In the early morning warmth, Harry had the illusion of freedom but a gilded cage was still a cage. Staring at the blank pad in his lap, Harry could only sigh as realized his brain was too chaotic to concentrate on drawing. Instead, his mind returned to the possibilities of what Voldemort could be planning. According to his time line, Voldemort had been back in existence for at least two years. A year had been spent regaining his strength and apparently, amassing followers and a fortune then the last few months had been spent looking for Harry. His mind raced over all possible scenarios but nothing could come to mind.

_"But why me? I'm not a threat."_

Lying back on the now sun warmed grass, Harry thought back to what Voldemort has said.

_"We are two parts of the same soul. We both died and returned to this plane, yet our magic, our souls are still drawn to each other."_

With a sigh, Harry couldn't deny the pull, the attraction he had felt to Voldemort's magic. It felt as if every pore in his body had been filled to overflowing. It had been dark but it made Harry feel complete in a way he hadn't felt in years. It was obvious that Voldemort had no intentions at the moment of killing him. If that was the case, it could have been done in muggle London and no one would have been wiser about it. Before Harry could dig further in his mind for more reasons, a 'pop' broke his concentration. 

"Master Harry, my Lord wishes you to join him for breakfast." Panky stated. 

Reluctantly, Harry stood up. He knew there was no point in defying him at this moment. He needed intel so he could come up with a plan to get out. 

"Lead the way, Panky."

ooOOoo

To Harry's surprise, he wasn't lead to the usual dining room. Instead, he was led to a sitting room, similar to his own. A small, two-person table had been set near the window. Voldemort sat in a high back chair, facing the window. From the doorway, Harry could see he was reading the paper but he didn’t doubt for a second that Voldemort didn’t know he was there. With leaden feet, Harry walked across the room and took the empty seat. Voldemort didn’t initially acknowledge his presence, seemingly engrossed in whatever he was reading. 

Harry sat quietly, noticing his seat was angled where he could see out into the gardens as well. Staring unseeing out the window, Harry fought his growing irritation at being ignored. Since he was “summoned”, Harry refused to speak, waiting to see what his captor wanted. Instead, he wondered where the library was, certain that Voldemort had one in this cavernous manor. With his mind too muddled to paint, Harry decided to focus on finding a solution to his problem of the wards on the manor. He knew wards were tricky but if he could find a way to get outside of these, he knew that he could apparate with no problem. So lost in his mental plans, Harry didn’t notice when Voldemort closed the paper and summoned breakfast. 

“Are you going to stare out the window all morning or will you eat your breakfast?”

Harry blinked then glared at the smirk Voldemort was giving him. Turning his attention to the food, Harry was glad to see his usual morning meal of porridge with honey, coddled eggs and toast with jam. The smell made his stomach rumble, reminding Harry he’d missed dinner the night before. As he ate, Harry tried to pretend he was alone, a hard thing to do half way through the meal since Voldemort decided to speak. 

“Last night’s dinner will be the last meal you’ll miss unless you are ill.”

Harry took a sip of his tea before answering sarcastically. “Yes, master.”

Giving another dark smile, Voldemort didn’t rise to the bait. “You calling me master will come later and in more… intimate circumstances. Right now, I am to be called Voldemort. In company, I am to be referred to as My Lord.”

His appetite suddenly gone, Harry felt his anger rise. “Bollocks to calling you ‘My Lord’! What if I want to call you Tom? That’s who you are to me. Voldemort is dead!”

Voldemort’s eyes glowed dangerously red and before Harry could react, found himself writhing on the floor in the grip of a cruciatus curse. Incredible pain ripped through Harry’s body and he heard screaming that he vaguely realized was his own. It could have been five minutes or five hours before the curse was stopped and Harry’s convulsing body collapsed limply on the floor. In the silence of the room, Harry could hear the ragged sound of his breathing competing with the racing pulse in his ears. Slowly, he opened his tightly squeezed eyes, feeling the unshed tears roll down the sides of his face. As he became able to focus, he could see Voldemort still sitting in his chair, looking at him with disdain. 

“You will learn your place, Harry. Insolence will not be tolerated.” Voldemort didn’t expect answer from the still quivering man. Calling for a house elf, he had Harry taken to his room, with orders to keep him locked in there. Turning his attention back to his own meal, Voldemort shook his head. He tried to use some measure of kindness but it seemed that he would have to resort to his old methods to bring Harry under his thumb. If Harry had seen the smile that graced his nemesis’ face at that very moment, he would have been very, VERY, afraid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Explanations of sorts, the introduction of a new but old character and even more confusion.

“My Lord, may I make an observation?” 

Voldemort looked up from his papers into the serious face of Barty Crouch standing in the door of his study. Since his current resurrection, Barty had been the closest thing that could be classified as a “confidante”, at least in Voldemort’s world. Barty had the distinction of being one of the few who were still living that could talk to Voldemort and at least be taken seriously some of the time. Sighing, Voldemort gave a barely perceptible nod. Moving into the room, Barty sat across from his lord, keeping his eyes respectfully lowered. 

“My Lord, I know you may not like this but to be honest, you made a error with Potter.”

Giving Barty a hateful glare, Voldemort’s tone was tight. “I’m well aware it may have been impulsive on my part.”

Barty knew better than to argue with Voldemort’s reasoning. “There is a way this can be fixed.”

Voldemort could only gaze thoughtfully for a moment at Crouch. “Fixing it” never crossed his mind. Up until this moment, those loyal to him simply submitted, never questioning his word. Dealing with Potter, on the other hand, was beyond frustrating. 

Seeing the slightly surprised on his Lord’s face, Barty began to tread carefully.

“You said that Potter was different. Therefore he has to be approached differently.” After a pause and clearing his throat, Barty continued. “He needs to spoken to plainly. He doesn’t respond to threats very well. It forces him to fight. If he understands his situation but realizes he is not being physically threatened, it may cause him to reconsider.” 

Leaning back, Voldemort was silent but thinking. First to the war and more recently, when he found Harry hiding in Muggle London. It was easy to see that Harry had been content with his art and anonymity. He was building a career as James Evans, artist, instead of basking in the accolades of the traitorous wizards who had depended on him being the “Boy Who Lived”. These were the same people who forced him to fight as a boy and would do so again if they felt he was obligated to protect them from whatever new threats loomed on the horizon. If the situations had been reversed, Voldemort knew without a doubt he would have brought Wizarding Britain to its knees to grovel at his feet. For his current plan to be successful, he needed a cooperative Potter. His thoughts were once again interrupted by Crouch. 

“My Lord, I think if you’d allow me to speak with Potter, I might be able to clarify some things for him.”

Internally, Voldemort sighed again. “Go, Crouch.”

ooOOoo

Harry groaned as he gradually regained consciousness. His entire body ached which was why he could do no more than flinch when a voice from the foot of the bed startled him. 

“I know you’ll be shocked to see me but I come in peace.”

Struggling to sit up, Harry couldn’t control his shock when he saw the face that went along with the voice.

“Crouch…you were kissed! You can’t be here!” 

Giving a maniacal laugh, Crouch carried a tray with three bottles to the bedside table. 

“You’d be surprised how many people say that! It’s an interesting story. I’ll share it with you one day.”

Gesturing to the tray, he pointed out the individual bottles. “My peace offerings. Pain reliever, a pepper up, and a nerve repair potion. Crucios can do a number on the nerves. Afterwards, you should eat and we’ll have a heart to heart.”

Harry scowled at the grinning man in from of him. “Why should I trust you? For all I know, you were sent to finish me off.”

Barty scoffed. “Really Harry? If My Lord wanted you dead, he is more than capable of doing it himself. Potions first then we can answer all those questions I know are buzzing around in your head. You were always such a curious boy.”

Still wary, Harry took the first bottle from the extended hand of his former DADA “teacher”. Gagging as the bitter potion slide down his throat, Harry couldn’t stop the sigh of relief as the soreness began to ease from his aching muscles. The second potion gave him enough energy to sit up even though he still felt a weak. Spying the third bottle with the nerve potion, Harry raised a questioning brow to Crouch.

“That, my boy, is why you need to eat. It’ll help restore your nerves but it’ll make you sick on an empty stomach. I know you still some weakness so let me help you to the sitting room.”

Harry wanted to refuse but falling on his face would only make him feel worse so he settled for leaning on Crouch. Calling for an elf, Barty gave orders for a light lunch for two to be bought up as they walked to the other room. 

Grateful to be sitting once again, Harry was certain he wouldn’t be hungry until the most wonderful smells reached his nose. Panky had bought up bowls of cream of chicken soup, and a tray filled with a variety of mini sandwiches. She had also bought a chilled pitcher of a shimmering golden liquid that Harry couldn’t identify. Taking a glass of the liquid, Harry couldn’t stop the smile that broke out on his face as the variety of fruit flavors exploded across his tongue. 

Barty couldn’t help but grin at the amazed look on Harry’s face. “Stop staring, my boy, and tuck in.”

The two ate quickly but quietly. To Harry’s surprise, the silence wasn’t imposing. He supposed it was because he had gotten on well with Crouch while he was disguised as Mad Eye. It was a bit unsettling to see that he was still in possession of his soul but Harry would save his questions until they were finished eating. As the lunch items were vanished, a pot of hot tea replaced them. Passing Harry the last bottle of potion, Barty took the liberty of pouring their tea. After passing Harry his cup, Barty leaned back with his own. 

“The tea will make the potion more palatable.” Crouch directed. 

Harry was grateful for the hot tea to wash the cloyingly thick liquid of the potion from his mouth. The potion worked quickl and Harry could feel himself returning to normal. Barty was pleased to see Harry wasn’t as pale as before. 

“I know you are ready to ask your questions.” 

Harry was but something was nagging him. “Why don’t you start with your peace offering. Did he send you?”

“It was more like I got his approval.” Barty replied. “I volunteered.”

“Why?” Harry asked.

“Because I let him know he was wrong.”

Harry stared in disbelief. “And he didn’t ‘Avada Kadara’ you?”

Barty gave a tight smile. “Let me start at the beginning, Harry. Even though several years have passed, Lord Voldemort is still Lord Voldemort. He told you himself that some of his sanity returned. Don’t make the mistake of thinking he’s anywhere near normal.” 

“I want no part of this insanity. If I wanted to be bothered with magical people, I could have stayed in wizarding London.” Harry replied. “I have no desire to be a part of whatever scheme he has planned.”

Barty gave a pitying glance. “You seem to forget, you have always been tied to My Lord. Your fate and his fate have been tied since the beginning of time.”  
Harry rubbed his hand across his forehead, the feel of the scar reminding him of the truth behind Crouch’s words. Holding his temper to try to get some answers, Harry asked. 

“What is this place? Where are we?”

“We are somewhere in Scotland. When My Lord retrieved me, he brought me here.”

_‘Scotland.’_ Harry thought. _‘Now I have something to work with.’_ Storing the information away, Harry continued to ask questions. 

“What does any of these has to do with me? Why am I here? If Voldemort has his body back and you lot to do his bidding, what is my purpose?”

Shrugging, Barty took another sip of his tea. “I am not completely privy to My Lord’s plans. But it will be glorious when it comes to its culmination.”  
“So I’m a pet?” Harry asked.

“Oh Harry!” Barty practically gushed, a crazed look in his eye. “Never a pet. You are so much more.” Waving his hands to the other side of the room where Harry’s art things were set up, Crouch pointed out. “He has ensured your comfort. He has given you the means to continue your beloved art. You have been given so many allowances.”

“But I can’t leave of my own free will.” Harry responded, his eyes narrowing at the obvious joy in Crouch’s voice. 

“Your free will, Harry, is whatever My Lord decides it to be.” Barty responded.

Unable to keep the anger out of his voice, Harry leaned forward, closer to Crouch.

“So you are saying that I should just pretend everything is okay even though I’m being held prisoner in this place?”

Barty leaned forward as well. “No. I’m saying you should stop poking the hornet’s nest with your sharp little stick before you get stung again.” 

As Harry leaned back, shock decorating his face, Barty continued. “You are letting his appearance fool you. He is still the Dark Lord. He has changed some but he is the same person you faced in the Forbidden Forest. His methods may have changed some but he has not.”

Harry could feel his heart in his throat and suddenly, he was nauseous, the food he had eaten threatening to come back up. “You just expect me to stay here and suffer whatever he has in store for me.”

Once again giving that maniacal laugh that sent chills down Harry’s spine, Barty replied. “Not at all. There is no intention for you to suffer unless that’s what you like. He has no desire to threaten you. My Lord has plans for you and he would like your cooperation, willingly, of course.”

Watching Harry’s face turn pale, Barty drove the point home. “You are here now, Harry. This is your home. You should make yourself comfortable." Standing up, Barty headed for the door, that crazed look still in his eye.

“Welcome to the dark side, Harry. I’m glad you finally made it home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was it somewhat confusing? I wanted it to be. It was Barty Crouch, after all, who wasn't the most sane person either. Did Barty make it better or worst? That's for the next chapter! Also, I'm looking for a beta so let me know if someone is interested.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to ChibiAyane for helping me develop coherent thoughts with this chapter!

Harry contemplated all the things Barty said and hadn’t said during their interesting meeting. He could only assume Crouch had been sent to offer a form of apology in the form of potions and food. As Mad-Eye, Harry had gotten on well with Crouch and his advice, while eccentric, had been helpful. Now Harry wondered if that wellbeing could be exploited to his advantage. He knew Barty wouldn’t help him escape but if he would at least give him enough information on the lay of the land, maybe he could figure out a way to get a message out to his friends. Harry also realized that as much as he hated it, he had to understand what Voldemort was up to with his current scheme. That meant spending time in his company. With the slenderest threads of several ideas beginning to develop, Harry poured another cup of tea and began to plot. 

ooOOoo

Hermione tried not to show how worried she was about Harry. When she went to Ron in tears and told him a modified version of the conversation with “Tom”, Ron comforted her. He also reminded her that his best mate deserved a holiday. He wasn’t thrilled when Hermione had insisted that Harry check in every day. Harry was an adult, he argued, and he deserved to have a private life. Ron had further driven that point out by pointing out how Harry had already turned his back on the wizarding world and if she kept pushing him, Harry would eventually leave them too. 

Hermione kept her fears to herself. She tried to floo call a few times but it was blocked. Her owls returned, seemingly confused. She didn’t know if Tom had hexed them or the wards around the manor where Harry was had repealing charms. Her searches through the ministry turned up nothing. It was as if Tom had just reappeared, fully formed on Earth. 

She had taken Ron’s words to heart but she couldn’t help the worry she was having for Harry. She knew Harry had been attracted to Tom. She couldn’t help but wonder how much influence Tom had developed over Harry in such a short period of time. For Tom to be able to break off contact and in such a nasty way, made Hermione especially concerned. His scathing words, however, combined with Ron’s had forced her to really examine her relationship with Harry. Rom had learned to accept Harry’s decisions, even if he didn’t agree with them all the time. When Harry decided to leave Auror training, Hermione tried to convince him to stay. After their last discussion, which quickly devolved into an argument, Harry had disappeared for over a week. Everyone was frantic and the Prophet had begun speculating about his possible whereabouts. 

When Harry finally contacted Ron, he appeared at the joke shop under a glamour. After convincing Ron and George to go in the back, he revealed himself and his plans. He had gotten a muggle flat, enrolled in a muggle university and found a job. Hermione had been crushed that Harry hadn’t come to her about it but with Tom’s words ringing in her ears, she finally realized why. 

_“I didn’t listen to what Harry wanted. I would have tried to fix what I thought was the problem.”_

And that was the problem with almost everyone when it came to Harry. Harry was willing to walk away and leave them all behind for peace. Friends were supposed to be a support system but instead Hermione was one of the ones driving him away with the weight of HER expectations. Brushing a tear from her cheek, Hermione vowed the she’d be a better friend when Harry returned. This vow, however, would not stop her from trying to find out the truth about Tom. 

ooOOoo

Voldemort was surprised when Harry appeared at dinner, dressed in his midnight blue robes. The two men said nothing as they quietly ate dinner. Voldemort was further surprised when Harry followed him to the study for their nightly drink, even taking his usual chair directly across from him. It wasn’t until they had been served and the elf gone before Harry finally spoke. 

“Why did you crucio me?"

Other than raising a brow, Voldemort showed no surprise at Harry’s bluntness. 

“At the time, it seemed the prudent thing to do.”

Harry couldn’t stop the incredulous look that crossed his face. “Prudent?” Taking a large gulp of fire whiskey to occupy his mouth for a moment, Harry used the moment it took to absorb the burn to curb his temper. Crouch’s words reminding Harry that while Voldemort’s appearance has changed, he was still the Dark Lord still lingered in his mind. He decided, instead, to learn something useful. 

“Where is the library in this place?”

Once again, Voldemort’s brow rose. He had been expecting an argument but Harry’s subject surprised him. “You can just summon Panky and she can show you. Looking for anything in particular?” 

Giving an innocent smile, Harry lied. “I was looking for something on wizard artists. I would love to learn how they give portraits motion.”

This time, Voldemort’s eyes narrowed. He knew Harry was lying but couldn’t call him on it. He’d just wait and see what books Harry removed to his quarters.  
Not wanting too much attention on his library request, Harry decided to bring up Crouch. “Thank you for allowing Barty to visit.”

“I take it you enjoyed his company?” Voldemort responded noncommittally, leaning over to fill Harry’s glass again. Harry eagerly took a sip, allowing the buzz that was developing to provide a distraction. As it so happened, his tongue was also loosened. 

“I just think it was very decent of you to allow him to bring me potions after you tried to crucio me out of existence. The next time you don’t want to be bothered with me, just send me home.” Harry retorted. 

Voldemort eyes narrowed and he didn’t like the feeling that was being to take hold of him. “Just how much did you enjoy Crouch’s company?” Harry leaned back against the cushions of his high backed chair. Closing his eyes, he missed the evil glare from Voldemort as he semi-gushed about Barty. 

“He was a good DADA teacher and he actually taught me a few things.” Harry sighed, smiling as he remembered when Crouch as Moody turned Malfoy into a bouncing ferret. Voldemort, on the other hand, was seething. That smile on Harry’s face was full of remembered fondness and Voldemort couldn’t handle the streak of envy that shot through him. Draining his glass, Voldemort slammed it on the table with a crack. The loud sound caused Harry’s eyes to pop open to see Voldemort staring at him with a look he couldn’t readily comprehend. 

“So what was Crouch to you, exactly?”

Harry frowned. “He was my teacher.” Harry responded sarcastically, missing the implication in his alcohol soaked mind. When it finally clicked, Harry couldn’t help but cackle. 

“He was only my teacher! I was only 14, for goodness sake! You are a pervert!”

With a flick of his hand, Voldemort refilled his glass. Copious amounts of liquor would be needed to deal with this impudent whelp. Listening to Harry laugh, Voldemort drained his glass and topped off his amused companion’s as well. With any luck, the boy would pass out. 

ooOOoo

Harry drank heavily from his glass, knowing he’d regret it in the morning but the opportunity was too ripe for him to find out some of the things he needed to know about Voldemort’s intentions. If it meant matching shot for shot, Harry intended to do it. Allowing his humor at Voldemort’s perversion to die down, Harry started probing.

“Why am I here?” he asked rather bluntly. 

Voldemort stared at Harry for a moment. “You have such unlocked power. You’ve allowed worthless wizards and witches beat you down for daring to even recognize your strength. I can show you how to unlock your greatness.” 

Harry scowled. “For what reason? To destroy all muggles and muggleborns, you mean?”

“No.” Voldemort replied. “Over the course of my return, I’ve learned several things. One was the full extent of the prophesy and how it could be applied. We both were led down the garden path by Dumbledore.”

“Don’t you dare speak ill of him!” Harry retorted. 

Voldemort looked curiously at Harry. “It amazes me to see how devoted to him you are after the destruction he brought into your life.”

Harry reigned in his temper, a difficult task given his alcohol consumption. “I would give the honor to you.”

Giving a mirthless chuckle, Voldemort took another sip before replying. “But you see, Harry, your beloved headmaster set me on this path. From the first time we met, he made it clear he thought I was evil. The first magical person I meet and he makes sure that I’m aware of the darkness of my blood. You know what surprised me?”

Harry couldn’t stop his curiosity. “What?” 

“Two things. One, other than you, he never shared who I really was with anyone that I’m aware of. I guess people would have suspected his hand in my ‘development’ if he had and two, he set you on the exact same path.” 

This time, Harry could not hold his tongue. “How dare you…!”

Cutting Harry off, Voldemort leaned forward, his body close to Harry. “How dare I tell you the truth behind my origin? How dare I point out how flawed your guiding star was? How dare I tell you that you are a fool to think that those wizards that you are willing to throw your life away for care nothing about you, not even your alleged friends?”

Pausing, Voldemort was not surprised at Harry’s lack of response. “He placed you in a home with magic-hating muggles. He told you as little as possible to keep you under his thumb. You were willing to die because Dumbledore told you that is what had to be done to get rid of me. You died and I’m still here.”  
Harry could say nothing as the truth behind the words sank in. He had come to realize Dumbledore’s failings as he began to carve out his own life. Dumbledore was so focused on stopping Voldemort that everyone had become chess pieces. Harry wasn’t really sure if the old man had even realize how he was reacting to the threat of Voldemort, as consumed as he was by the quest for the “greater good”. He had never discussed it with Ron and Hermione because they sometimes felt Dumbledore had hung the moon in the sky. No one would even consider the fact that maybe, just maybe, Dumbledore had been wrong. 

_“Yet another reason why I’m leaving the wizarding world.”_ Harry mused, taking a swig of the whisky in his hand. Suddenly, he wanted to be drunk, no longer to match Voldemort’s drinking but maybe to wipe the sadness from his soul. 

“Why am I here, Tom?” Harry asked with resignation. 

“You have great power, Harry. Others have tried to harness your power for their own gains but I want to teach you to unleash it. It’s time for you to accept your true destiny.”

“But why?” Harry asked again.

“I told you before; we are two parts of the same soul, destined to be together. Even death could not keep us apart.”

Before Harry could respond, Voldemort leaned closer and holding Harry’s chin, kissed him deeply. It wasn’t gentle but hard and almost painful. Shocked, Harry gasped, allowing Voldemort’s tongue entrance into his mouth. The powerful magic flowed between them as the kiss deepened and Harry could sense the shared magic filling the empty spaces he didn’t know existed in his soul. He lost all concept of time as he drowned in that kiss. He wanted to fight. This was the man who had made a wreak of his life yet he couldn’t find the strength to do so. He knew later he would be angry with himself but as the complementary magic flowed between them, he just didn’t have the mind to care. 

Too soon for his own liking, Voldemort pulled away, hiding a smirk as he heard Harry’s displeased groan. He was pleased to see the bruised, swollen lips and the accompanying flush on Harry’s face. Voldemort knew it was only a matter of time before Harry would grace his bed. The younger man would fight his attraction but in Voldemort’s opinion, that would make the conquest of Harry that much sweeter. 

“You are mine, Harry Potter, and I will never let you go.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you had a Merry Christmas for those who celebrate! I hope you enjoy this belated Christmas present!

After a night filled with erotic dreams fueled by the memory of that kiss, Harry woke with a raging headache and hard on. Thoughtfully, a hangover potion had been placed on the nightstand and he wasted no time chugging down the foul liquid. As for his second problem, Harry stood under the spray of the coldest shower he could muster until his cock finally wilted. His breakfast was in its usual place, something Harry was eternally grateful for because he wasn’t quite ready to face his attractive nemesis. Even though he knew he couldn’t avoid Voldemort in his own house, Harry wasn’t quite ready to see him this early in the morning. Last night had been both incredible and appalling. Just thinking about it shot strong feelings directly to Harry’s groin. He couldn’t deny the raw power and the unbridled lust that flowed between them but this was not the way he wanted a relationship to be. A prisoner, used by his captor, was not a role Harry wanted to play. He had to figure out a way to get out before things went too far and that meant the library. Calling Panky, Harry soon found himself surrounded by an impressive collection of books. Somewhere was the answer to his questions and hopefully, his prayers. 

ooOOoo

Harry could breathe a little easier once he was informed that his host was away for the day. He did look for the books he’d told Voldemort about and found several that discussed the techniques that were used by wizarding artists. After taking copious notes from some and sending other via Panky to his rooms, Harry finally searched books related to his hidden agenda. Harry had no doubts that the Dark Lord was going to question the elf about the books Harry had taken from the library. He hated that he didn’t have his wand but at least, Voldemort wouldn’t be able to trace his magical signature since he had to retrieve and copy information the muggle way. It took a couple of hours but soon, Harry felt he had enough information that he could go back and study in the privacy of his rooms. 

Harry didn’t hold out hope that he would be able to escape but he wanted to at least find a way to get in contact with Hermione. If nothing else, he wanted her to know he was all right. It would be insane to tell her that Voldemort was back but they could figure out exactly where he was then…

Shaking his head, Harry quickly let go of that idea. He knew he might be able to get word out but no one but Merlin would be able to find his location. Leaning back in his chair and resting his eyes for a moment, Harry’s mind went right back to what was going on between him and Voldemort. The attraction was there for sure and Harry was sure there was nowhere in the world he could hide now that Voldemort knew his magical signature. Harry could only sigh as his mind invoked the feelings that coursed through his body. His face burned in shame as he recalled the wanton nature of his dreams after wards. He wasn’t sure if sex was a part of Voldemort’s plan but Harry knew he needed to get out and soon before he did something he’d regret. Not sure how much time he had left before Voldemort returned to the manor, Harry went to his rooms, planning his next library trip to include ways to break magical bonds. 

ooOOoo

Voldemort spent the better part of his day dealing with establishing himself within the Ministry of Magic. His last attempt at world domination taught him the true power was behind the throne. The his disgust and amusement, he discovered there were many in positions of power who loved the idea of a mysterious but wealthy “benefactor” who was willing to finance their “lifestyle” in exchange for information and favorable votes on certain projects. Voldemort was more than willing to provide galleons as long as he was able to achieve his results. The Light was too docile, too eager for someone to save them instead of working to ensure the survival of magic in Britain. The fact they depended on a child to defeat him years ago and wanted that same person to continue to be their rescuer spoke volumes on the mentality of the Light. Prey could only hide out for so long before the predator hunted them down and took them out. 

Voldemort’s plan was simply. Those loyal to him were being moved into positions of power. The Minister of Magic was no more than a figurehead. While he made some decisions, true power was in Wizengot. Loyal dark families were making sure their seats were preserved while gradually taking over seats from defunct light families. Some of the families disappeared after the war, moving to America or to the Continent, if the entire line hadn’t died out during the war. Other families were unaware of their own history and didn’t know about a lone seat or two. The goblins were very happy to take funds for the abandoned seats and the mysterious Lord Gaunt, who was English-born but had spent his formative years living in Russia and China, quickly purchased them. According to the story being spread, the lord was ready to establish himself in his homeland but he wanted to do so quietly. 

By the time wizarding Britain got their heads out of their collective asses, the Ministry takeover would be complete. Voldemort’s hand chosen wizards and witches would be in charge and the new reign of Dark would be in full force. 

ooOOoo

Harry almost jumped for joy as he found something that he could work with. According to his notes, reaching a meditative state could be used to feel the wards and determine their strength and weakness. According to the information from the book, Harry would have to first reach out with his magic and allow it to be exposed to the magic of the wards. If the wizard were powerful enough, he would be able to feel when someone opened or closed the wards. That moment of wards being weakened to allow someone in could be enough to let Harry slip out. The book indicated the person undertaking the mediation should be able to channel their magic and allow it to flow in the direction he chose. In order to exit a ward, the bearer’s magic would have to be directed at the opening. 

Remembering Voldemort’s exclamations of his power, Harry decided to see what he could do. Sitting quietly, Harry allowed his mind to relax. He knew he could send his magic out but had never attempted to control the direction. He felt his magic stretch out, reaching through the manor. His “host” was still out and Harry could feel the different magic of the elves. There was no other human present in the manor. Excited by this little bit a practice; Harry grabbed his notes on the moving portraits. Along with his drawing supplies, Harry went to a far corner of the garden. It was wild growing and filled with tall, sweet scented wildflowers. It was also a perfect place to hide because of the tall over growth. With his drawings spread out, he could use the work excuse in case someone came looking for him.

Lying back on the grass, Harry closed his eyes and allowed his mid to drift in the warm air. Extending his magic out again, he could feel it brush against the wards. Focusing in his mind, he envisioned his magic as a pale golden color. The wards of the manor seemed to be a rainbow of colors that exploded when Harry’s magic brushed against it. From what Harry could feel, a solid but invisible wall surrounded the manor. It seemed to stop at the wooded area that ran along the back of the property and Harry knew that would be the place for him to hide when he figured his way out. Grinning, Harry knew he had finally figured his way out. 

ooOOoo

The next couple of days were uneventful. Voldemort didn’t try to make a move on Harry again. He could feel Harry’s barely restrained energy but after checking with the elves, the only thing he was working on was the moving portraits. Voldemort also checked the library but the only books missing were the artist books. Voldemort almost cursed the fact that Harry didn’t have his wand because there was no way to detect which books Harry actually looked in. He knew the little minx was up to something but he just couldn’t figure out his plan. 

Between his duties with integrating the ministry and trying to figure out Harry’s plan, Voldemort thought about what was going on so far with Harry. Never in his existence had he met anyone with a pure, untainted magic. It was wild but Harry’s magic was ambrosia to Voldemort’s soul. It filled spaces Voldemort didn’t know existed and for the first time in his 3rd life, he understood that Harry was not the enemy but the completion of him. He knew when they bonded, the unleashing of all that wild magic would be a wondrous thing to behold. It made Voldemort so possessive of Harry. Any powerful wizard who encountered Harry’s untapped potential would want to make him their own. But they wouldn’t recognize the fact that if the bond were forced, Harry‘s magic would be locked away forever. Voldemort intended to make Harry a willing participant in this. Kissing Harry had awakened passions Voldemort assumed were long dead. He knew as hard as Harry fought on his feet, in bed, he would be a passionate lover. With a feral grin, Voldemort couldn’t wait to find out. 

ooOOoo

Grateful that Voldemort most afternoons away from the manor, Harry was able to practice between spending time looking for information on magical bonds. Soon he could figure out where the wards actually opened to allow entrance. He had taken to having his magic expanded so Voldemort would not think it odd if it suddenly flared out. Harry kept it near the wards but not touching them. He had to be careful because he knew Voldemort was getting suspicious of his good mood. It was confirmed when Barty showed up one day under the pretense of “just visiting” but Harry knew better. Barty’s visit also gave Harry his first feeling of what the opening of the wards felt like. He was shocked to feel a cool tingle run down his spine, like someone’s cold hand. Concentrating for a moment, Harry felt something like a wave and the wards parted near the front door. A moment later, he could feel the magical signature of Barty enter the manor. 

Barty joined him in the garden and watched him practice with his moving portraits. They had a little movement but Harry was pleased with his progress. Spending as much time as he could try to figure out the wards, Harry knew he had to work on the drawings or Voldemort would be doubly suspicious. Harry also made sure to talk about his work, knowing that Barty would report his progress to Voldemort. He kept it trivial and mundane. It took everything Harry had to control his emotions when Barty let the news he had been waiting to hear slip from his mouth. 

“There will be a meeting here in five days. My lord is meeting with his Inner Circle.”

Heart racing, Harry feigned indifference. “Really? I’m surprised he’s letting anyone near this place.”

Barty scoffed. “Only those he trusts. I’m the only one that knows about you for the moment.”

In his attempt not to sound too eager, Harry added a few more lines to his drawing before asking another question. “So where am I to be while this summit is going on?”

“Anywhere in the house, I suppose, as long as you aren’t near the meeting room.” Barty shrugged. 

Harry thought for a moment. His plan was falling into the place. Now was the time to begin setting up for escape. 

“Well, you know it’s a full moon that night. Maybe getting some drawings of the night blooming flowers would be a nice way to spend the evening.”

ooOOoo

Over the next few days, harry studied the information on wards. He practiced during the afternoon while Voldemort was gone goodness knows where. Harry soon realized when someone entered the house wards, the entire ward dropped briefly. He also discovered there was a lesser ward on the grounds. It contained a notice-me-not spell along with other protection spells that Harry assumed would protect against any attack. The outer wards extended well into the woods but Harry discovered a weak point. There was an area of white magic, possibly a blessed altar to a forgotten deity but it was untouched by the dark magic used to construct the current wards. Harry knew if he reached this spot, he would be able to escape and apparate to the Weasleys’ and plot his escape from England. His muggle London flat would be too dangerous and he refused to endanger the muggles he had grown to care for. Ron and Hermione could help him get away in less than 24 hours and with their house heavily warded, Harry could remain hidden until then. 

His plan included handling his art through Gringotts, with Hermione being the go-between with Marc. Becoming James Evans, reclusive artist would only help sell more paintings, so Marc would go along with the ruse. He could also let Hermione handle the closing of his flat and making sure he was sent his supplies and mementos through the goblins. With a plan firmly in mind, Harry only had to figure out a way through the darkened woods without magic. His plans were ready to set in motion and in less than 24 hours, he’d be making a run for it. 

ooOOoo

The day of the meeting dawned uneventfully, yet Voldemort couldn’t stop the feeling of foreboding. He could sense Harry was up to something but nothing was given away when he talked to Crouch. Their evening dinners were subdued with Harry maintaining a polite distance and disappearing to his rooms as soon as the table was cleared. Smirking as he recalled that alcohol infused encounter, Voldemort was ready for more. First, duty called. He was ready to make his debut as Lord Thomas M. Gaunt, long lost Gaunt family heir. The goblins had blood tested him and formally certified his lineage. Using his newly acquired funds, Lord Gaunt was able to reestablish the barren Gaunt vaults as well as claiming the long abandoned Gaunt lordship. The back-story was remarkable sparse. As a descendant of the illegitimate branch sired by John of Gaunt from the noble house of Beaufort, the orphaned Thomas was raised aware of his muggle royal heritage but didn’t discover his magical lineage until he was adopted into a magical family under unusual circumstances. Magically educated at Koldovstoretz in Russia, upon completion, Gaunt lived in China for a while but returned to England to restore his magical family name. 

This last meeting was to finalize all the last minute details and to discuss the small gathering that would be held at the ministry of magic, hosted by the minister himself, to welcome the return of such an old family. Voldemort couldn’t help the evil grin that graced his face. Because his family had been extinct for so long, people who knew the detailed history of the Gaunts were long gone. Voldemort was also certain that Dumbledore had told no one of his true name and magical origins. His plans were ready to be set in motion and in less than 24 hours, he’d be ready to take England by storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The word gaunt is defined as "haggard, drawn and emaciated" and "bleak, desolate."[3] John of Gaunt was a fourteenth-century English noble. (A son of king Edward III of England, but as he was only the third son, he and his descendants were not expected to ascend to the throne, which they ultimately did: first through his legitimate male descendants the Lancasters, and then through his debatably illegitimate descendants, by his long time mistress and then third wife Katherine Swynford, the Beauforts. Henry Tudor (later Henry VII)'s mother was a Beaufort, and his claim to the throne derived from her. Therefore, John of Gaunt is an ancestor of the House of Tudor). Gaunt's heir deposed a king and usurped the throne, possibly alluding to the Gaunts' descendant Voldemort's attempts to overthrow wizarding Britain's government and rule it himself. Also, Gaunt's great-grandson, Henry VI, was notorious for his mental instability, which was earlier pointed out as a characteristic of the House of Gaunt, but in Henry VI's case it probably derived from his grandfather, Charles VI of France. Retrived from Harry Potter Wikia.
> 
> White magic-White magic has traditionally referred to the use of supernatural powers or magic for good and selfless purposes. With respect to the philosophy of left-hand path and right-hand path, white magic is the benevolent counterpart of malicious black magic. Because of its ties to traditional pagan nature worship, white magic is often also referred to as "natural magic". Modern white magic is often associated with stereotypically feminine concepts like that of a Mother goddess, fae, nature spirits, oneness with nature and goddess worship.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry makes his grand escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains frottage. Thanks again to ChibiAyane as always for the help and direction!

Harry nervously sat through dinner, hoping Voldemort wasn’t aware of his anxiety. If asked, he planned it to the meeting of men he knew would have him dead. He figured Voldemort wouldn’t buy it but wouldn’t question it because of his impending company. After dinner, Harry excused himself and went to retrieve his drawing supplies he had hidden in his duffel bag with the few belongings he had bought with when he thought he was going on “holiday”. With a snort at the path all of this had taken, Harry hurried out of his borrowed rooms. He wanted to be outside, close to the wards, when the “guests” began to arrive. 

ooOOoo

Voldemort did notice Harry’s jitters but Harry was right when Voldemort didn’t have time to really interrogate him. This was the first official meeting with his new band of followers and he was rather glad that Harry would be making himself scarce. Crouch had reported that Harry would be in the gardens drawing night blooming flowers. Voldemort only shrugged at Harry’s choice of vocation. He knew Harry had the magical potential to be so much more but there was no denying his artistic talent. Once this meeting was settled, Voldemort intended to advance his plans with Harry. He was not accustomed to denying himself anything but duty had called first. After the meeting, a moonlight stroll in the gardens wouldn’t be remiss.

ooOOoo  
Stationing himself at the farthest end of the garden, Harry could feel the gentle pulsing of the wards. He knew the moment they opened, he’d have to move quickly. The shrine was east of the manor and Harry could feel its gentle pulse as well. The main worry Harry had was navigating the woods. Even with the full moon tonight, the forest was thick and Harry was positive it would be dark the deeper he went into it. He didn’t want to get injured, especially not knowing what hidden creatures might lurk in the dark. The tingle of the wards beginning to shift dragged Harry out of his thoughts and caused him to nervously clutch his bag. It was soon to be now or never time. With a quick, sudden shift, the wards were gone. 

So was Harry. 

ooOOoo

As the meeting progressed, Voldemort couldn’t shake the feeling of dread he had been harboring all evening. With his well-used mask of indifference in place, his formal “reintroduction” to wizarding society was planned. The Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, was hosting an invitation only dinner. Other prominent wizarding families would be invited to welcome the House of Gaunt back to Britain. Under glamour, Crouch would accompany Voldemort as a distant cousin. With the formal introduction, Voldemort, or Lord Thomas Gaunt as he would be known, would be able to move in “polite” society with impunity. The idea of fooling all the purebloods who thought they were better than him as well as members of the light who thought a mere boy had defeated him, made Voldemort as giddy as he would allow himself to be. Only Crouch recognized his extremely pleased countenance, with others thinking it as an arrogant sneer. No matter what they thought, Voldemort was ready and Britain wouldn’t know what hit them. 

ooOOoo

Moving through the darkened woods was more difficult than Harry imagined. He directed his steps towards the pull he felt from the altar. The deeper he moved, the rougher the terrain became. It was obvious that no one had been this way, at least non-magically, in ages. Roots and fallen branches seemed to reach out for Harry’s feet, causing him to stumble on more than one occasion. Spots where the moon was able to break through the foliage allowed him to quicken his pace. Before he realized it, Harry stumbled into a huge, moonlit clearing. Shocked, he could only stop and stare at the large stone monument before him. It appeared to be made of some type of white stone that magically glowed in the moonlight. Harry could feel the strong surge of white magic that surrounded the entire area. The area had an otherworldly feeling and Harry had a strong urge to lie on top of the flat surface and let the ambient magic fill him. 

Tearing himself away with a shudder, Harry moved past it, looking for the weak spot that would allow him to apparate away from his captivity. Extending his magic out, Harry could feel the area he needed to be in but it was on the other side of the altar, a little further into the woods. Stepping out of the moonlight back into the darkened wood was like pulling a shade over his eyes. Stumbling along in the dark, Harry was finally within a few feet of the weak point. Heart racing, before he could take those final steps, a hand grabbed his arm, pulling him back against a firm body. 

“You really didn’t think you’d be able to walk away from me, just like that, Harry?”

ooOOoo

As soon as the meeting adjourned, Voldemort dismissed everyone and went in search of his consort to be. A quick scan of the gardens turned up nothing. Calling for Panky, the elf informed Voldemort that Harry wasn’t in his rooms and hadn’t been all evening. Dismissing the elf and baring restraining his rage, Voldemort expanded his magic. A growl left his throat when he realized what Harry was attempting. One advantage Voldemort had was the ability to apparate within his own wards. Stopping a hidden spot near the weak point, Voldemort watched as Harry walked around the altar in awe. A brief smirk graced Voldemort’s face as he recalled what the previous owners of the manor use for the altar. He could see Harry was attracted to the altar, which would work into his plans nicely. 

Voldemort knew why Harry was fumbling through the woods. It was the weakest spot in his nearly impenetrable wards. The magic from the altar greatly reduced the dark magic of his wards and somehow Harry had found this weakness. Voldemort was torn between admiring Harry’s cunning and rage for his attempt to escape. Noting that the young man was getting close to the spot, Voldemort decided to end this charade.

“You really didn’t think you’d be able to walk away from me, just like that, Harry?”

ooOOoo

Harry’s heart nearly exploded in his chest at the sound of that dreaded voice. He was so close to the spot but the grip Voldemort had let Harry know that escape would be impossible. 

“You know I’m serving no purpose. Just let me go. I’ll leave London and no one will know who you really are.”

Voldemort gave a sinister chuckle, the vibration causing chills in Harry’s body. 

“Soon enough, they will know I’ve returned. As for you, I have special plans for you.”

Fear briefly gripped Harry and he struggled again to get free. Voldemort responded by wrapping both arms around Harry and pulling him flush against his body.

“Why me?”

A different shiver went through Harry as Voldemort’s breath tickled his ear. “I told you before. You have pure, untapped power. You are like a well. I could drink from you and never tire of it.”

Anger burned through Harry, hot and fast. This time, he was successful in pulling away from Voldemort. Taking several steps back, Harry resisted the temptation to turn and run.

“I won’t be anyone’s pawn. Not again! Never again!”

Voldemort wanted to bring Dumbledore back to life to curse him to hell for the damage he had done to Harry. Death was far too good for the meddling old man. 

“Not a pawn. An equal. The power behind the throne, so to speak. It’s time to show the world what you are truly capable of. They want a puppet. They want someone to do the dirty work while they hide their heads in the sand. You vanished and they are in a panic. Who is going to save them now if you are nowhere to be found? The entire British magical world is trying to make you a pawn. It’s time to show them. There’s only power and those too afraid to seek it.”

Voldemort’s unruffled tone of voice remained the same. Harry wanted to slam his hands over his ears so he wouldn’t hear the calm logic spilling from his mouth. Harry cringed at those words, remembering them from a long time ago. Harry knew what he had the ability to do. He knew the allure the darkness held for him after the war. Yes, it was easier to tell his friends that leaving the wizarding world was because of stress and the pressure of fame but it wasn’t the only reason. As long as he stayed in the magical world, the darkness was becoming harder and harder to resist. He had done things and seen death. There was no way he could be fully light again. He knew living in the muggle world couldn’t be a permanent solution but Harry had fully intended to use it to establish a new identity then find another magical society to live in where he wasn’t known on sight as Harry Potter. It wouldn’t matter his magical affinity because he’d be allowed to simply live. During his studies after Hogwarts, Harry learned that other wizarding societies held no division about Light and Dark magic. All magic was magic. 

As his mind stopped wandering, Harry realized that Voldemort was trying to stall him. Noting where he was in relation to the weak point, Harry knew it was now or never. Breaking into a run, he knew the danger of turning his back to an armed enemy but it was a chance that Harry was willing to take. 

Voldemort was only mildly surprised when Harry broke into a run. Pulling his wand, he fired a very underpowered stunner at Harry. It would only knock him out couple of minutes but it was enough to stop him from reaching the spot. It felt very anticlimactic as Voldemort picked up the unconscious body from the ground and apparated back to the manor. 

ooOOoo

When Harry regained consciousness, he was surprised to be in a bedroom he’d never seen before. It was dimly lit but Harry could make out the dark fabrics that covered the bed he was currently lying on as well as the curtains that hung on the windows. The only light on in the room was beside a high back leather chair with its back turned to the bed. Panicked at failing his mission and waking in an unfamiliar place, it took Harry a moment to realize that the chair was occupied. In the dimness, he could still recognize the familiar head. Hoping to move quietly, Harry attempted to move across the bed, away from the chair and towards the door. He froze as Voldemort spoke, not even turning around to face him. 

“Surely you wouldn’t try to flee again after just failing so miserably?”

Harry growled at the hint of mirth in the older man’s voice. No longer hiding his intentions, Harry rolled off the bed and stalked to the door. He really didn’t expect it to be unlocked and wasn’t too disappointed when the knob didn’t yield. Turing to face his nemesis, Harry could feel his magic lashing out in his anger and made no effort to stop it. “Open the door!” He bit out, advancing to where Voldemort sat with an amused smirk on his face. When there was no reply, just a hard stare, Harry’s magic lashed out more violently, destroying glass objects including the lamp, plunging the room into darkness. This seemed to only feed his anger further and even in the dark. Harry could hear the sounds of ripping fabrics and the crash of falling objects. As his magic gradually faded away, it became deadly quiet. Harry could hear the sounds of his ragged breathing. Magically exhausted at the end of this destructive rampage, Harry sank to his knees, oblivious to the pain from kneeling on broken glass and other trashed objects. 

The room remained silent and dark before a bright light burned Harry’s eyes through closed lids and forced him to turn away. A strong hand firmly grabbed his chin and forced his head back up. 

“Open. Your. Eyes.” 

Harry, instead, tried to yank his head free only to find his hands magically bound to his side. The hand grasped his face painfully, stilling his movements. 

“Do not continue to defy me, Harry. Open your eyes!”

ooOOoo

Anger and lust were raging a strong battle inside of Voldemort. Harry’s magic suffused the room and Voldemort felt almost intoxicated as it filled his pores. Casting a “lumos” and moving to stand before the now kneeling man, Voldemort couldn’t stop the fleeting thought that it was a fitting position for Harry to be in. Grasping Harry’s face, Voldemort forced his face up but Harry kept his eyes screwed shut against the light.

“Open. Your. Eyes.” 

Voldemort expected no less than Harry trying to fight him did and he was not disappointed. Grasping Harry’s face tighter, the struggling boy finally stilled. His eyes finally popped open and Voldemort was momentarily stunned to see the swirl of darkness going through his green eyes. Unleashing his own magic, Voldemort was pleased when Harry gasped at the power behind it. Just as Harry’s magic destroyed the room, Voldemort’s replaced and repaired the items. Once finished, he pulled Harry to his feet, allowing his magic to surround them. Although the younger male was almost magically depleted, Voldemort could feel his magic pushing back against his own.

The power that was beginning to fill the room was intoxicating. Voldemort would never admit to anyone and barely to himself how arousing Harry’s magic was. Seeing the defiance and magic swimming in those green eyes made any words that Voldemort would have said leave his brain and instead he captured those lips in a crushing kiss. Before Harry could respond or protest the motion, Voldemort had him flat on his back on the bed, never stopping his assault of his prey’s tender mouth.

Once again, Harry found himself in a position of not being able stop himself from responding to Voldemort. He didn’t know if it was the magic between them or the attraction he had before he found out who ‘Tom’ truly was. Opening his mouth to protest resulted Voldemort’s tongue finding its way inside and the magic pouring from their cores between them. In the back of his mind, Harry wanted to fight it but it was too intoxicating and was affecting him in the most delicious way. His body was on fire and he could feel himself growing achingly hard within the confines of his jeans. 

Voldemort was having the same reaction as Harry. It was remarkable easy to remove the muggle t-shirt by simply ripping it off. Moving from that delectable mouth, Voldemort smirked when moans from Harry filled his ears while as he nipped and tasted his way down the younger male’s throat to his sensitive nipples. His hands, in the meantime, never stopped moving, reaching the button of the jeans. Deftly, Voldemort opened them and sliding his hand in and was pleased to feel Harry’s already hard cock. Moving the clothing out the way, Voldemort took Harry’s warm shaft pulsing in his hand. After a few pumps, precome was leaking over his hand and an idea quickly came to him to deal with the problem of his own aching erection. 

With a quick, wandless incantation, Voldemort had both of them completely nude and lying on their sides facing each other. Grabbing Harry’s leg and throwing it over his hip, Voldemort returned his attentions to Harry’s mouth as their cocks made contact with each other. He wanted so badly to go further but he knew that while the younger male would enjoy the moment, he’d allow guilt and horror to eat him alive afterwards. He wanted Harry to eventually long for his touch so when the time came, he would be willing and begging. 

Harry groaned as he made skin-to-skin contact with Voldemort. The power of both their majicks was intoxicating and Harry would later swear it went straight to his cock. His hips moved involuntarily, his breath stolen by the deep kisses Voldemort kept planting on his eager lips. Their coming together was not romantic but an urgent need to put out the white-hot fire that was burning between them. 

Voldemort could feel the familiar tingle that was starting to develop in the pit of his lower belly. It had been too, too long since Voldemort had experienced this release and he knew he wouldn’t last too much longer but he wanted to see Harry come first. He was already a sight to behold, his emerald eyes glazed with lust, his body flushed and sweaty. Greedy to the end, Voldemort wanted to see that break, the “la petite mort” that would come with his release. Harry was his and no one would have the experience with him again. Reaching down, Voldemort gently but firmly took both of their members in hand, stroking while whispering in Harry’s ear. 

“Come, my pet. Give in to your desire, your pleasure.”

With those words in his ear and the strong, sure strokes around his cock, Harry was sure his heart stopped as he exploded. Moments later, Voldemort followed, both men so overcome by their releases that neither noticed the flash of light that momentarily enveloped the room.

ooOOoo

Sated for the moment, Voldemort quickly banished the sticky fluids from his and Harry’s bodies. Now totally exhausted, Harry lay sprawled across the bed, sleep to the world. A fleeting thought passed Voldemort’s mind about how easy it would be to kill Harry now but he was a selfish man and ownership was always better than destruction. With a growing smirk, he pulled the covers over him and Harry. As he was drifting off, Voldemort couldn’t help but be pleased with the turn of events.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> La petite mort, French for _"the little death"_ , is an idiom for orgasm. This term has generally been interpreted to describe the post-orgasmic state of unconsciousness that some people have after having some sexual experiences. 
> 
> Definition via Wikipedia


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry deals and plots. Voldemort plots. Hermione is back. Warning: Masturbation

The sun was high in the sky before Harry began to languidly stretch in against the silky sheets of the bed. For a moment, Harry thought it was an off day from the tea shop and he was thrilled to have a bit of a lie in for a change. 

Until he opened his eyes. 

Reality slapped Harry like an open fist as he took in his surroundings. In the light of day, it was easy for Harry to recognize exactly whose rooms he was currently residing. Before full blown panic set in, Panky, the house elf, popped in. 

“Good afternoon, Master Harry. Your clothes are in the wardrobe, your personal items are in the bathroom and Master Gaunt wants you to join him in the gardens for early lunch when you are dressed. Call for me when you are ready.”

Harry could only sigh and agree. The last thing he wanted to face Voldemort but hiding would do no good and he really had to figure out a new plan to get away. Leaving the bed, Harry was grateful to see he at least had on pajama pants. Refusing to think about his wanton behavior from the night before, Harry moved into the bathroom. He was successful for as long as it took him to brush his teeth. 

Stepping under the warm spray of the water, Harry began to replay the events leading up to him that moment. He already knew he was attracted to Voldemort, when he thought of him of as “Tom, the eccentric benefactor”. The attraction to Voldemort’s magic scared and aroused Harry. The dark power between them was intoxicating and he felt powerless to resist it. Just thinking about it had Harry began to harden, his memory of the night before taking over like a runaway train. The cloth he was using to wash his body was dropped and he grabbed his cock with his soapy hand. Everything played back like a movie with Harry’s hand moving in time with each remembered touch, bite and stroke. Before he even realized what happened, with a shudder and cry, Harry came hard over his hand and shower wall. 

Weak in the knees, Harry leaned against the wall, allowing the water to run over him. Now more than ever, he really wanted to get away. Acting like a sex-starved teenager was the last thing he needed to add to his list of current woes. Finding the discarded towel, Harry cleaned himself quickly. After dressing, he called Panky and was instantly taken outside. 

ooOOoo

Voldemort, on the other hand, was up with the sun. After the night’s excitement and “activities”, Voldemort had to admit he was in what he considered a good mood. Watching his consort to be sleep gave rise to passive feelings. As far as Voldemort was concerned, no one else would know the sounds Harry made when he was aroused, no one would be able to taste the sweet saltiness of Harry’s skin, and no one would see those green eyes darken to jade as Harry succumbed to lust. It took all of Voldemort’s self-control to walk away and not ravage the sleeping man. Instead, he showered and dressed. After leaving instruction with the elf, Voldemort headed to his office to take care of business.  
Lunch was set up in the more manicured area of the gardens. Large rose bushes grew perfuming the air with their delicate scent, while providing a private setting in the open garden. They were tall and combined with several willow trees, provided with a lovely, shaded spot on the warm summer afternoon. Voldemort could only shake his head at the elf’s choice of setting. When he left instructions for lunch in the garden, he hadn’t realize she would pick one of the more romantic areas of the gardens He couldn’t remember the last time he had actually taken the time to sit and just do nothing. It was relaxing, however, and reluctantly, he was enjoying the peace of the setting. Voldemort wasn’t sure how long he had sat enjoying the sun when Harry finally arrived. 

Harry sat down once the elf left, avoiding Voldemort’s eyes. They both were silent as the meal appeared on the table. It was a light lunch of chicken salad sandwiches, fresh fruit, and the sparkling fruit drink Harry had enjoyed with Barty. Harry would have been fine ignoring Voldemort’s presence but Voldemort wasn’t having it. 

“I trust you slept well?” He asked politely. 

Furious at himself for turning tomato red, Harry gave a non-committal mumble. Concentrating on his food, he missed the smirk from the normally stoic lord.  
“Since you seem intent on ignoring me verbally, I’m sure you’ll be listening. While your power display last night was ‘enticing’, you need to control it. You leave yourself at the mercy of your enemies when you become magically exhausted.”

This time, Harry couldn’t help but respond with distaste in his voice. “A fact that you took great advantage of last night.” 

Voldemort laughed but there was no humor in it. “Contrary to your belief, Harry, nothing short of a potion would have made your react the way you did last night if you hadn’t wanted it.”

Harry scowled but said nothing. Voldemort continued. “Crouch will be here later to begin your training. In the meantime, let’s lay down some rules. Since you cannot be trusted to be alone, you will either remain in our quarters or be accompanied by Crouch, an elf, or myself at all times.”

“You’ve got to be joking!” Harry responded, shocked. 

“Oh Harry, I never joke. Since I promised to not crucio you anymore, it’s what will be done. Please don’t make me break my promise.”

Harry sat silently thinking, when something that Voldemort said suddenly struck him. 

“What did you mean by OUR quarters?”

ooOOoo

Needless to say, the rest of the lunch did not go well, resulting in Harry storming off and hiding in the library until Barty arrived. The idea he was not only trapped in this gilded cage but was now forced to share sleeping quarters with his sworn enemy had Harry angry and afraid. He knew Voldemort wasn’t above trying something sexual again and to be perfectly honest, he wasn’t sure how strong his resistance would be to those advances. 

_‘Merlin, why did he have to be hot AND handsome?’_ Harry groaned, feeling a familiar twitch in his pants. 

Pushing the memories from the night before FAR away from his brain, Harry focused on the reason he was in this particular room. His main goal was to find another way out or at least a way to try and get a message out to Hermione and Ron. He considered using a house elf but he knew they were loyal to Voldemort and would either take the message to him or at least tell him where they went. Harry hated he didn’t have his wand. He could have at least sent a patronus to them. A thought occurred to him and Harry scoured the shelves until he found what he was looking for. 

_‘The Wandless Wizard: Your Guide to Mastering Your Magic’ by Carlotta Pinkstone_

A grin spread across Harry’s face. He knew how to do some wandless magic but really hadn’t practiced stronger skills because he always had his wand.  
_‘It’s time to rectify this situation.’_ Harry thought as he hurried to his room to hide the book amongst his art supplies. 

ooOOoo

Pushing back from his desk with a sigh, Voldemort looked over his finalized plans. The debut was in two days and it seemed like everything was perfect but Voldemort knew there was no such thing as perfect. Barty had arrived in the manor two hours ago with papers that needed his signature. Voldemort had been tempted to go to the training room to see how things were going with Harry but he wouldn’t be responsible for his actions when he felt the caress of Harry’s magic. Their power combined would be unstoppable. 

He could hardly wait. 

ooOOoo

Harry couldn’t even begin to describe how tired he was. Barty was a tough a teacher as he had been when he was pretending to be Mad Eye Moody at Hogwarts. He was relentless and being the first day, he had pushed Harry to the edge of his limits. It didn’t help that Barty also taunted him as becoming “The Dark Lord’s Bed warmer”, causing Harry to explode and slam Barty into the nearest wall. After expending such a large amount of magic in one burst, Harry had to call Panky for help to get back to his room. There was a brief argument between him and elf about going back to his original quarters but Harry was back in what Voldemort had termed “their quarters” and he was not happy about it. Refusing to get in the bed, Harry staggered to the shower then collapsed in one of the chairs in front of the cold fireplace. Another house elf popped in with food, but Harry, tired and irritated, growled and ordered the food taken away. At first, the elf refused but Harry grabbed the tray and flung it, causing the elf to squeak in horror and leave.  
He had started to drift off into a doze when a dreaded voice put an end to his rest. 

“It’s bad enough you are terrorizing my elf but did you also have to attempt to make Crouch a part of the manor’s wall?”

Harry didn’t open his eyes to even look at the man he knew was standing in front of him, refusing to rise to the bait and wind up horizontal with Voldemort again. 

“That was the risk of training. Did you not warn Barty of what could happen?”

Voldemort had to concede on that point. He hadn’t told Crouch how powerful Harry was so whatever caused Harry to expend that much magic should serve as a warning to Crouch. He wanted Harry trained to control his magic, not draining his core out with every lesson. He would have a talk with Crouch, who was currently recovering from the unexpected onslaught in Voldemort’s office.

“Why are you terrorizing my elf?”

This time, Harry did open his eyes. “Your ELF would not leave me alone. I told her I didn’t want anything. I don’t like to be forced.” He bit out rather savagely.  
The silence hung in the air between them. Harry closed his eyes again. He was exhausted and really didn’t have the strength to argue with Voldemort over a house elf. Hermione would be appalled at his attitude but at this particular moment, Harry couldn’t find the energy to care. With his eyes closed, Harry missed the evil sneer that bloomed across Voldemort’s face. 

“Let’s get something perfectly clear, Potter. First of all, you are expected to eat three meals daily. No argument, no questions. You are expected to be respectful to everyone in this household, even the servants. Throwing these tantrums of yours will cease or you will be punished.”

Harry’s eyes popped open and he glared at Voldemort. “Don’t you think being here is punishment enough?”

Voldemort’s eyes narrowed and Harry couldn’t stop the chill that ran down his spine. 

“Oh no, Harry. There are so many worse things that could happen to you than just being here.”

ooOOoo

The next day was a blur to Harry. Early rising, breakfast alone, training and lunch with Barty, more training, and dinner with Voldemort. Harry was able to sneak in a few chapters of the wandless magic book before dinner. The evening of the argument and the day after training with Barty, Harry had fallen asleep in the chair and was perturbed to awaken in the bed. He hated being so exhausted that he didn’t even know he was being moved. It was easier than admitting his magic felt comfortable with Voldemort even if he personally didn’t. It was even more irksome to awaken with Voldemort’s arm possessively around his waist, as if ensuring Harry didn’t escape in the night.

One thing Harry was pleased to discover was the fact that wandless magic was closely related to what Barty had him working on with the training. This meant he could strengthen his magic while learning to control his wandless spells. He was eager for Voldemort to leave so he could practice uninterrupted. At the moment, he sat in the study, practicing the moving portraits. It was the only activity that could relax him at the moment

ooOOoo. 

Voldemort took great care in making sure he looked stunning. Other than a glamour for his eyes, Voldemort knew his looks and personality would fool everyone. His robes were of the finest, all black silk. His ensemble was completed with his white shirt, tie, black vest and black slacks. He looked every bit the proper, wealthy wizard. The Daily Prophet had been full of speculations leading up to the party tonight and while they had been digging into his past, nothing was found that Voldemort didn’t have planted out there for them to find. His only real concern for tonight was leaving Harry alone in the manor. The elves would keep an eye on him but Voldemort knew consort to be wily. It was tempting to lock him in their suite but since Harry had been spending a lot of time in the library, he would leave instruction to allow him free range in the house but at any sign of trouble, the elves were to apparate him to the suite and seal him in. 

He was pleased to see Harry working on his art. In spite of the tensions between them, Voldemort knew that Harry’s art was important to him. After this debut, Barty had suggested a way for Harry to continue his ‘James Evans’ persona without giving away too much to his muggle agent. Voldemort had to admit he was curious to see how this would work out. Having a muggle world connection could only benefit him, after all. 

“I expect to see you later.”

Harry sneered but didn’t turn from his picture. “You say that like I have options.”

“Touché. Hopefully, you’ll have a pleasant evening.” Voldemort replied. 

Harry grunted noncommittally. He was just ready for him to leave. He could feel Voldemort’s cold eyes on his back for a moment longer, then he was gone. Harry remained where he was another 20 minutes just to make sure Voldemort didn’t return, then he was off to the training room. 

ooOOoo

Hermione hated arriving anywhere flustered but that’s exactly how she felt stepping into the ministry alone. She had been told at the last minute her presence was expected at this event. She left work, hurriedly changed and dashed back. Ron was gone on a case and Hermione didn’t want to beg anyone at the last minute. No one she talked to at the office seemed to have a clue why this event was being held, only that it was very important. Hermione was really hoping that she could just stay long enough to be seen then disappear. Between her work, worrying about Ron and worrying about Harry, she wasn’t really sleeping well. She was grateful for glamours that could hide the signs of strain and tiredness. Ginny was gracious enough to meet her at home and pin up her hair and thankfully, her dress robes were ready to go. 

“You don’t look like you worked all day.” Angelia Gale said by way of greeting as she stepped out of the floo.

Giving a grateful smile, Hermione dusted the little flecks of soot from her robes. “Neither do you, Ang. At least we had time to get ourselves together.”

“Since it seems like we are two solo ladies tonight, let us go find a table before they are all taken.” Angelia replied, grabbing Hermione’s arm and dragging her into the huge room.  
Both women were in awe of the décor. It looked like something out of a fairyland. The room had an enchanted night sky with a full moon and thousands of stars. Around the room were trees, dripping with lights. An orchestra was playing soft music but everyone’s attention was drawn to the platform on the raised dais at the front of the room. Hermione could overhear the soft murmurs as they made their way to a table. People were curious about the guest of honor who had obtained the full support of Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt. He was notoriously ethical and so for him to allow such an extravagant event, the person must be someone who has his full support. 

After the last of the guests arrived, Minister Shacklebolt stood. Casting a ‘sonorus’, he began to speak. 

“it gives me great pleasure to welcome back to the British magical community, a member of a long lost family. We all know how important our familial ties are and to discover one’s connection is like finding a piece of yourself. Lord Thomas Gaunt has returned to Britain to claim his heritage and establish himself as an active, productive member of the British Wizarding Community. May I present to you, Lord Thomas Gaunt.”

There was a polite smattering of applause as regal, incredibly handsome man took the stage. Hermione gasped and Angelia mistook it for admiration. 

“He is a looker, wouldn’t you say, Mione?” Angelia giggled, star struck as the handsome lord was thanking everyone for making him feel welcome. 

“He is something alright, Ang.” Hermione said as her heart fell into her stomach, all traces of her exhaustion gone. 

It was Tom. Harry’s Tom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Information of Carlotta Pinkstone can be found here: http://harrypotter.wikia.com/wiki/Carlotta_Pinkstone


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note the tag changes.

Throughout the ball, Hermione could feel Lord Gaunt watching her. She made sure to focus her attention on Ang, coolly pretending to ignoring him. Although she wanted to talk to him, Hermione knew what she wanted to discuss didn't need to be mentioned in at this venue. Hermione made sure to never let herself be alone even though she saw Lord Gaunt attempt to approach her but, fortunately, other dignitaries stopped him to curry favor. It was almost amusing to see the flashes of frustration on the normally unflappable Lord but Hermione knew her luck wouldn't hold out. With her position in DMLE, she knew it would only be a matter of time before she and Lord Gaunt had a formal sit down. Seeing that some blushing witch once again occupied him, Hermione ducked to the floo and left, relieved for what she knew was only a brief reprieve. 

ooOOoo 

Voldemort was furious when he noticed the muggle born witch had disappeared. Other than that disappointment, he was pleased with the evening. The people had been taken with the long-lost lord and many expressed their interest in building a relationship with him. All and all, it was a productive evening. Voldemort knew where to find the witch and he would talk with her soon. In the meantime, he would take full advantage of the simpering fools clamoring for his attention. 

ooOOoo

Harry spent the evening in the training room practicing. He worked on some of the spells and protections Barty was teaching him to perform wandlessly. Since Barty had shown him how to channel his magic more, it was growing more powerful. He had to be careful about how much he allowed Barty to see. Harry was no fool, he knew Barty reported everything back to Voldemort. As he practiced, Harry also plotted. the one thing that crossed his mind was the floo network. He knew Voldemort and Barty used it but harry had been unable to find a trace of floo powder in the manor since the last time he tried to contact Hermione. This let Harry know it had to be on their person. He needed to figure out how to find out from Barty without alerting him to his potential plans. 

Another issue that cropped up was the risk to Hermione and Ron. He knew when he got out, they would be the first destination for Voldemort. Shuddering, Harry didn't want to consider what Voldemort might do to them. One of the books he found in the library on wizarding practices noted that the Gringotts was neutral and they didn't involve themselves in wizarding issues. 

_"If I left England, where would I go?"_ Harry mused as he struggled with a spell.

Europe was off the table but America was huge and he knew Voldemort didn't have many, if any, contacts there. With so many large cities, it would be easy for Harry to disappear. Gringotts would be invaluable. He would be able to move his money, purchase a new identity and get out of the country. The goblins would keep all of his secrets for the right price. Harry felt better with a more definite plan in mind but he also knew that he would have to avoid Voldemort's "advances". He knew with all the planning that had been going on for the big debut, Voldemort didn't really have time to pay him any attention other than to make sure to make sure he didn't escape. Harry didn't hold out hope that the inattention would last. 

He had spent time in the library, trying to get a clue to what Voldemort had planned for him. He kept talking about Harry being "willing" so he knew it was some type of ritual. What he couldn't figure out what the ritual would do and what his "willingness" entailed. Voldemort was obviously healthy and somewhat sane. He was powerful as well. Times like this really made Harry miss Hermione. He could bounce ideas off her and between the 2 of them, figure it out. 

Lost in his thoughts and practice, Harry nearly fried the elf that popped into the room. The elf hurriedly bowed, its floppy ears scraping the ground.

"Sor...sorry Master Harry! Late dinner as yous requested is set in yous room." 

With a nod, Harry dismissed the frightened elf and returned to the rooms he shared with Voldemort. After a quick shower, Harry pulled on a pair of sleep pants sans shirt and sat down to a light meal of sandwiches and crisps. Finishing up, he was surprised with Panky popped in with a slice of a summer berry tart and a glass of wine. Harry look at the dessert questioningly, then turned his attention to the elf. 

"Master Marvolo wanted you to have this since you were unable to attend the gala." Panky smiled then disappeared with barely a pop. 

Harry grimaced. He wasn't sure how to feel about being left a special dessert. It was either very thoughtful or a rub in the fact that Harry was not free. Regardless, Harry's weakness for sweets won out and he took a bite of the dessert. All thoughts momentarily fled and an explosion of sweet fruit surrounded his palate. A sip of the slightly bitter wine cut the sweet and allowed the fruit to shine. Once he finished the delightful dessert and the wine, Harry crawled into the bed. He considered sleeping in the chair but since he woke up in the bed, there was no point being uncomfortable. 

As he settled in, Harry's thoughts returned to the fact that his magic was so comfortable with Voldemort's. If this had been normal circumstances and Tom had been a person interested in James Evans, Harry wouldn't have had an issue with having his first male fling and going back to his mundane life. But this was Voldemort and this attraction was more than just a fling. As he drifted off, Harry's last conscious thought was that he had to get out and soon before he did something he regretted. 

ooOOoo

Voldemort had to admit the evening had been a smashing success. Many influential connections had been made that evening and he could see his plans beginning to come to fruition. Entering his suite, he was met by an elf who detailed how Harry spent his evening. While he was pleased that Harry continued practicing his magical control, Voldemort wasn't deluded into thinking that the brat wasn't still plotting an escape plan. He had to give Harry reluctant praise. He was resourceful but then, if he hadn't been, Harry wouldn't have survived their many previous encounters. 

Changing into his silk bed pants, Voldemort was surprised that Harry wasn't in his chair by the fireplace. 

_"Maybe he finally got the idea that he can't avoid sleeping at my side."_ He smirked, darkening the sitting room with a wave of his hand. In the bedroom, the elf had lit a small lamp near the bed, allowing Voldemort to see his way while not disturbing Harry. Watching the dark haired man sprawled across the bed, Voldemort couldn't help but note that Harry slept the way he lived, with wild and reckless abandon. There was a dark shadow on his face and Voldemort was once again surprised by the difference between the boy he had fought to destroy and the man he had finally become. His failure to kill Harry was bittersweet. 

If he had been successful in defeating Potter, he could only imagine the destruction he would have bought to the wizarding world. His time in China had taught him that power derived from fear meant nothing. Sooner or later, the people would rise up against you and destroy you. He was still seeing power but in such a manner where people would be willing to die singing his praises. He knew having Harry willingly by his side would sway the public to his side. Presenting himself as an abandoned Lord of a long lost but formerly powerful family gained him plenty of sympathy with the fickle wizards. Many told him of missing the presence of Harry Potter because they wanted to be 'safe'. So many of them spoke of him with so much reverence that Voldemort was almost sickened. Being the one who brought Harry Potter back into the wizarding world would cement his place in society. He would be able to bring Britain to its knees with a smile.

At that moment, Harry groaned and rolled over on his back causing the thin covers to shift and expose his bare chest. Voldemort felt a surge of lust as he recalled their previous encounter. It had been too long since he aroused the passions that lay dormant inside both of them. A dark smirk crossed his face as he removed his pants and slid into bed with Harry. 

_"No better way to end a successful evening."_. Voldemort darkly chuckled as he began stimulating the sleeping wizard. 

ooOOoo

The first thought to surface in Harry's mind was that he was having the most incredible sensual dream as he felt what felt like a warm tongue leave a trail down his neck to his chest. Groaning, he came to his senses as his nipples were given some undivided attention. The licks between the nips that border lined on painful forced his eyes completely open. 

"What are you doing?" Harry groaned as another sharp nip shocked his senses. 

"Your body responds so nicely to stimulation." Voldemort whispered, seeing Harry at half mast just from the teasing of his nipples. "Surely you didn't think I'd ignore you forever?"

"What are you doing?" Harry demanded again, unable to stop the whine from escaping as Voldemort wrapped his hand around Harry's rapidly stiffening arousal. 

"Celebrating. Do you want me to stop?" Voldemort replied, leaning forward to take a nipple back into his mouth as he began to stroke Harry. Harry's response to arch his back into Voldemort's hand, seeking more friction against his now firm cock. His eyes slid shut as Voldemort licked and nipped his way down Harry's body, the bites nearly drawing blood. He knew he would be covered with bruises in the morning but at the moment, that burst of pain only sharpened the sensations that were threatening to overtake all of Harry's senses. A groan escaped his lips as Voldemort stopped his sensual assault. 

"Open your eyes, Harry. No hiding this is what you really want." 

Harry's eyes fluttered open to meet the red pupils of Voldemort. Both sets of eyes were mirrors of passion and lust. Voldemort then gave a savage grin. 

"Mine!” He growled as he viciously took Harry's lips in a brutal kiss. Harry responded with equal fervor. Logically, he knew that he'd regret it but his entire body was on fire and he knew Voldemort was the only one who could put it out. Harry didn't want to stop until the fire was extinguished. 

Voldemort's hands never stopped roaming, blazing a trail over Harry's body. Soon his mouth reached Harry's groin and Harry cried out as Voldemort deftly swallowed the now trembling man's leaking erection. As Harry's eyes slid closed once again, Voldemort stopped his ministrations. 

"Open your eyes. I want you to look at me when I fuck you. When I claim your body, I want to have all of your attention. Your body will be for my pleasure."

Under normal circumstances, Harry would have bristled at the words being spoken by Voldemort but in his heightened state of arousal, the words on served to turn him on more. Satisfied for the moment, Voldemort returned his attention to Harry’s receptive body. 

Harry’s next conscience thought was Voldemort warm mouth sucking his cock deeply. Harry thought he’d explode right then and there. He could only cling to the covers, not caring if he sounded like a wanton slave. He was so close to the brink and he could have cried when Voldemort suddenly stopped. 

“No coming unless we do it together.” Voldemort then turned his attention to the rest of Harry’s body, deftly flipping the younger male over so he was lying on his stomach. Summoning the oil, Voldemort coated his hand and began to prepare Harry’s virgin channel. He wanted Harry to associate this with pleasure from him so he would turn to no one else to satisfy his carnal needs. By the time Voldemort finished preparing him, Harry was a writhing mess, his body on fire. Steadily, Voldemort pushed his cock until he was fully seated inside Harry. Moving slowly to allow him to adjust to the fullness, Voldemort waited for a sign that Harry was ready for more. 

Harry groaned as he was entered from behind, his back resting on Voldemort’s chest. There was a slight twinge of pain as he stretched along with a slow burn as his body opened to accept the cock that had claimed him. He could only pant as Voldemort slowly moved. Soon the slow movement wasn’t enough. Harry tried to shift his body but Voldemort’s arm across his chest held him firm. 

“What do you want, Harry?” Voldemort’s voice almost purred as his warm breath tickled Harry’s ear. 

Stubborn, Harry wasn’t going to beg for it. Voldemort sensed this and up for the challenge, changed the angle of his slow strokes to ensure he hit Harry’s prostate. The move had Harry seeing stars and after a few strokes, Harry was ready to give in to anything Voldemort wanted. 

“Ask for it, Harry. BEG for it, Harry.” Voldemort demanded. 

He couldn’t stop himself. All Harry knew was that he needed more. More friction, more heat, more everything. He could regret later, he needed the fire put out now. 

“Fuck me.”

With a savage grin, Voldemort whispered in Harry’s ear. “With pleasure.”

Soon the two found a rhythm and any doubt or guilt Harry may have felt burned away with the desire that boiled through his veins. When Voldemort reached around and began to stroke Harry’s neglected cock, Harry thought his heart would explode through his chest. He couldn’t stop the licentious cries that poured from his throat. He could feel his body primed to explode and that was something he wanted more than anything. 

Voldemort was near the brink as well. He could tell Harry was getting close as well and he wanted Harry to release before he did. Doubling his effort, he pushed Harry forward on the bed and began to pound him with abandon. 

With the assault on his prostate, Harry couldn’t hold back any longer. With a loud cry, he had the most powerful orgasms he’d ever experienced. His vision whited out for a moment and Harry was vaguely away of a burst of magic. As Harry’s channel tightened around him, Voldemort erupted and filled Harry with his seed, his own burst of magic exploding as well. 

Harry collapsed on the bed, pulling Voldemort down with him. His limbs were shaking and it felt like all of his energy exited through his cock. He was vaguely aware that Voldemort’s cock was still in his ass but he didn’t have the strength to care. He didn’t know how long they lay there but he couldn’t stop the hiss when Voldemort finally pulled out, leaving Harry feeling strangely empty. He felt languid as he came down off the endorphin rush of the orgasm. A whisper of magic danced over his body as Voldemort cast a cleaning charm. As he was pulled close to his now lover and covered, Harry wanted to protest something, anything but the pull of Morpheus was stronger and he succumbed to the darkness.


	13. Chapter 13

Hermione arrived at work extra early. Nerves from the night before wouldn't allow her to sleep. In her dreams, Lord Gaunt kept chasing her. Sleeping alone didn’t help but with Ron out of town, she had no choice. Finally giving up any idea of rest, she dressed and headed to the Ministry. After spending several hours in the quiet emptiness of her office, tolling over the latest revisions to magical creature laws, a knock on the door broke her concentration. Ang poked her head in. 

"I come bearing tea and I was also coming to let you know that Lord Gaunt is in the building. The whispers are saying that he's hitting all departments."

Hermione groaned. "Merlin, why?"

Ang slid in, closing the door behind her, placed the teacup on the desk and plopped into a chair. Hermione gratefully sipped the warm beverage while listening to her friend prattle. "I think Shacklebolt is trying to woo him into supporting the ministry. He'll be claiming his family seats in Wizengot, after all."

Hermione leaned forward, shock on her face. "His family seats?"

Laughing at her friend's incredulous expression, Ang explained. "He comes from a long extinct wizarding family on his British side. No one knows if they are connected to his mother or father."

Ideas began to roll around her head but before Hermione could ask questions, her office door swung open. Shacklebolt stood with a grin on his face, the topic of their conversation right behind him. 

"Ladies, I'd like to introduce you to Lord Thomas Gaunt. Lord Gaunt, this is Angelia Gale and Hermione Weasley. Both are the backbone of our Magical Law department."

Ang blushed at the praise, gazing starry eyes at Lord Gaunt, while Hermione tried to keep the scowl off her face.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Lord Gaunt." Ang gushed. "I'm flattered that Minister Shacklebolt thinks so highly but we all know that Hermione is the brains behind this operation."

This time, Hermione did scowl at her friend. Lord Gaunt gave a pleasant smile to Ang and turned his attention to Kingsley.

"Minister, would it be possible for me to have a few moments with Mrs. Weasley? I'd love to hear her ideas on a few things I have in mind."

Hermione paled but kept her face blank as she watched Kingsley almost fall over himself leaving, taking Ang with him. Once the door closed, Hermione took a deep breath and summoned her Gryffindor courage. 

"Lord Gaunt, please, have a seat. I'll be glad to answer any questions you might have." Hermione stated brightly with her best professional smile plastered on her face. 

Taking the offered seat, Gaunt's gaze never left the face of the witch before him. 

"Mrs. Weasley, while I am interested in your work, I'm more interested in your foray into my files."

Hermione considered denying it but decided to face it head on. "You have my friend captive. Of course, I want to know about you."

Voldemort leaned back, a sinister smile on his face. 

"Captive is a strong word to use. Probably for the first time in his life, Harry is being catered to, taken care of his every need. He is still working on his art. He is training to become more adept with his magic. His every passion is being fulfilled."

"Yet you aren't allowing him contact with anyone." Hermione then frowned; the words Gaunt said triggering her thoughts. "What do you mean training to become more adept?"

"You know Harry is powerful He has been holding back so much. It has been my pleasure to bring all that talent to the forefront.” Voldemort chose his words precisely to goad Hermione. He knew from his previous conversation with the witch that she felt she knew Harry best. Hermione, of course, reacted exactly as he expected.

"Harry has never held back! He even sacrificed himself to save everyone!" 

An evil gleam shone in Gaunt's eyes that chilled Hermione to the core. "And what do you think these same people would do if they knew of Harry's true strengths? Keep in mind, these are the same people who alternatively loved and hated him over the course of his entire life. These same people are the reason he abandoned Magical Britain in the first place. Why would he let them know what he was TRULY capable of?"

Blanching, Hermione recalled all the years Harry had to endure being hated for things people thought he had done while in school, or immediately after the war ended when there was a faction that kept saying Harry was going to be the next Dark Lord. That was around the time Harry withdrew from the wizarding world. 

"I see what you mean, Lord Gaunt, but I don't think..." Hermione began but was interrupted when Lord Gaunt raised his hand, stopping whatever Hermione was going to say. 

"And that therein lays the problem. We've had this discussion before, Mrs. Weasley. You presume to know what Harry feels, thinks, or why he does what he does. Tell me, what does Harry do in the muggle world besides paint and work at the tea shop?"

Hermione opened her mouth to speak them closed it with a snap. As much as she hated to admit it, Lord Gaunt was correct. Harry had been spending less and less time with time with them or anyone he knew in the British wizarding world. When he did, he talked about his painting or shared anecdotes about the shop. She couldn't recall anything truly personal in the last year. Plus, it was harder and harder to actually see him. His visits to the magical world were fewer and other than the tea shop, she and Ron didn't know how to find him in muggle London. She knew the location of Harry's first apartment but when he moved to the second, bigger place, they never visited. To be perfectly honest she couldn't recall Harry actually tell them WHERE it was, only mentioning the larger place so he could use the second bedroom to paint. 

Gaunt watched the range of emotions dart across the hapless witch's face. He was perversely delighted to see her go from absolute certainty to crushed acceptance. 

"So you see, Mrs. Weasley, Harry was never given a choice on what Harry could be in his entire life. I'm offering Harry the chance to be just Harry. Not the Boy Who Lived, not The Savior. What all of you fail to realize that Harry is under no obligation to any of you."

Feeling chastised Hermione could only give a mumbled 'I see'. Nevertheless, she did see. Harry had to be free to find himself. The harder everyone tried to cling to him, the more it pushed him away. "But you still can't make me believe what you are doing is any better, Lord Gaunt. You aren't offering Harry a true choice either."

Gaunt stood, resisting the urge to hex the witch into the next century. In the midst of his satisfaction at putting Hermione "in her place”, he willfully failed to heed his own words. Clinging to Harry or in Gaunt's case, placing Harry in a gilded cage would only force Harry leave them all behind. 

ooOOoo 

Harry woke up mid morning; hours after Tom had left their bed. For a few moments, he was confused by the lateness of the hour until a sudden roll on the bed caused a sharp twinge in his lower regions, reminding him of his activities from the night before. Falling back with an aggravated groan, Harry called out for Panky. The words barely crossed his lips when the elf popped in the room with a tiny vial in her hand. 

"Master Gaunt said you would need this when you rose." Panky said as she handed to vial to Harry. Harry scowled as he saw the pain soother label but sighed with relief as he downed the liquid and the pain faded. Seeing that Panky still waited, he requested breakfast to be sent up after his shower. Checking the time, Harry noted he had three hours before Barty would show up for training 

It was all he could do to keep his mind off the previous night's activity. Harry grudgingly admitted that since he had to lose his virginity then doing with Tom had been electrifying. It would have been better if he had hated it. Harry exited the shower angry with himself for liking the sex and craving more of it. Furious with himself, Harry reported to the training room. As a result, Barty was the one who wound up suffering from Harry's self-flagellation. It wasn't until Barty crashed into the wall and slid down to the floor unconscious that Harry realized he had taken out all of his frustration on the poor soul sprawled on the floor. Shaking his head, Harry almost called for Panky when a genius idea popped into this head.

_"I wonder if Barty has floo powder on him?"_

Barty's discarded robes were tossed into a corner of the room. Double-checking to see if Barty was still unconscious, Harry rifled through Barty's pockets with shaking hands. His heartbeat sped up as his fingers closed around a tied leather pouch that held the coveted powder. For a moment, he contemplated keeping the whole thing but the "Hermione" portion of his brain kicked in.

_"If the whole pouch disappears, you'll be the first and only suspect."_

Harry paced for a moment, deep in thought. A shaky plan formulated in his head and he picked up Barty's robes while calling for Panky. "could you take Mr. Crouch to the study? I'll be down as soon as I change out of these sweaty clothes."

Hurrying down to his room, Harry ripped a sheet from his art pad and poured some of the powder into it, hiding the treasure deep in his art supplies. He quickly changed clothes and hurried to the study after returning the pouch to Barty's robes. Panky had placed Barty on the couch with a cold compress on his head. She had also been thoughtful enough to leave a pain reliever potion once he awakened. Harry tucked the robe under Barty's feet and hoped he would wake soon. 

Keeping one eye on Barty, Harry’s mind worked on how to make use of his key to freedom. It would be too easy to leave now but that also meant that Voldemort would be looking for him immediately. There were several things he had to take care of before he completely vanished and he would need time at Gringotts to make sure he would stay hidden. Instead, he would have to wait and bide his time. 

ooOOoo 

Lost in deep thoughts with his plans, Harry didn't realize Voldemort had returned until he strode into the study. 

"Panky tells me that you and Barty have been a little rough with each other.” Looking at the prone man on his couch. 

"Well, Barty does like it rough. I didn't know he couldn’t handle it. If I had a wand, I would have woken him myself." Harry said, making sure to keep his face perfectly blank as Voldemort turned to him with a scowl on his face at the hidden jab in Harry's words. As Voldemort returned his attention to his unconscious follower, Harry allowed a smirk to grace his face. A quick "enervate" had the prone man groaning as he began to awaken. Harry once again allowed his thoughts to wander as Voldemort tended to his most loyal follower, surprising Harry when his name was called. 

"Mr. Potter, I asked if you were joining us for dinner."

Barty stood beside his Lord, looking a little wobbly and bruised, glaring at Harry. Harry rolled his eyes and considered saying 'no' but maybe the two would share some information he could use. 

Besides, he was hungry. 

ooOOoo 

Listening with half an ear to the conversation of Voldemort and Barty, Harry contemplated his own situation. The biggest issue would be where to go. Any European country was a no go. He had found a little information on the American magical communities and with the size of the country and the cites, he could easily become a nameless face in the crowd. His attention was dragged out of his thought by the sardonic growl of Barty. 

"I say you lock him in his quarters until we return." he said, while glaring daggers at Harry.

"Look, just because you got thrown into the wall, you don't have to be bitter. We were sparing, what did you expect?" Harry replied, rolling his eyes.

Barty stood up, causing his chair to crash to the floor, and whipped out his wand. "I expected to not be thrown into a wall!"

Voldemort interrupted, saving Harry from giving away how strong his wandless magic truly had become. 

"Boys, there's no need to fight." he drawled, sounding more like an indulgent parent than a possible tyrant. Barty picked up his chair and sat down, sputtering as Voldemort turned his attention to Harry. 

"I have to go to France in a week. I was wondering what to do with you."

Harry tried to keep his face blank as his heart began to race. "What to do with me? You seem to forget I'm trapped in this pretty fortress. It's not like I can walk out the front door!"

Barty smirked at the ire in Harry's voice while Voldemort seemed unaffected as he returned his attention to his meal. "That's true but I still wonder if that's too long to leave you to your own devices. You seem to have a knack for causing trouble."

Harry knew he had to tread carefully. If he protested too much, Voldemort might wonder if something was up. If he didn't protest at all, Voldemort would definitely know something was up. 

"Then take me with you."

Barty laughed but was silenced with a glare from his lord. 

"As tempting as that might be," Voldemort replied, giving Harry a smoldering look that told him EXACTLY what he would be doing as a companion on this trip. "I have business to attend to and I can afford to be distracted." 

Harry was sure his blush could rival the red hair of any Weasley while Barty looked horrified at the implications. 

"I still say lock him up, my lord." 

Before an angry retort could leave Harry's mouth, Voldemort responded. "I don't think that would be necessary. As he said, it's not like he could simply walk away from here."

ooOOoo 

In hindsight, Harry should have realized several things, the first being that sex between him and Voldemort wouldn't be a one-time thing. Secondly, because Voldemort was leaving in a week, Harry should have known that Voldemort was intent on shagging as much as possible. As much as Harry wanted to resist, he couldn't find the will to say no. The sex was addictive. As a result, most evenings after Barty left, Harry found himself in the study, sitting in Voldemort's lap, impaled by his cock. As he languidly rode up and down, his movements choppy because of the newness of the position, Voldemort flexed his hips to meet the downward movements. 

"Why do you continue to resist me? Do you know all you could have at my side?"

A particularly hard thrust had Harry seeing stars. "Never." was the most Harry could grunt out.

"We could rule together, show the England and the world true power." Voldemort replied as he quickened his thrusts. Any reply Harry would have made faded into the abyss of pure pleasure. Moments later, powerful organisms swept through both men. If they had opened their eyes, the two wizards would have been stunned to see the glow of magic burnishing their skins. 

It seems that maybe Mother Magic has some plans of her own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been debating with myself about this being MPreg. I'd love to hear your thoughts.


	14. Chapter 14

Harry was anxious and angry. So many times, he was ready to take the floo powder and run but he knew he wouldn't get far while Voldemort was still in the country. He had figured out the perfect time. Harry knew Voldemort would check with the elves at night to make sure he was there. Harry figured if he made his move in the predawn hours that would give him enough time to get to Gringotts, close up his apartment and leave the country before breakfast. Normally, Panky didn't come in his quarters before 10 a.m. and he could be gone well before the alarm was sounded. He was angry with himself for his continued attraction to his captor. It didn’t help that he had been attracted before he found out who "Tom" really was. The crazy thing was if Tom had been who he said he was, Harry was fairly certain he would have been willing to stick around but being deceived by the first person he had started falling for since leaving Hogwarts really hurt and made Harry feel foolish. 

As a result, there was a noticeable change in Harry’s mood. Barty's vicious prodding about the nature of Harry and Voldemort's relationship result in a hellish training session. Both men wound up battered and could hardly walk to dinner. Voldemort was sick of them glaring at each other across the table but said nothing regarding their childish antics. After dinner, Harry stormed off while Barty remained behind to finalize their plans. Hiding away in his former quarters, Harry crawled into bed glad to be alone but hating himself for missing Voldemort's presence. He knew things were becoming dangerous. The fact that he had even considered not leaving let Harry know he **had** to leave before it was too late. A gilded cage was still a cage and no matter what promises Voldemort made, Harry would never be free. Drifting off to sleep, Harry prayed that his plan would work. 

ooOOoo 

Meeting with Barty and a few trusted others took longer than Voldemort planned. Dealing with the minute details of international negotiations was tedious but Voldemort wanted to be sure he was firmly established with the French. His new lordship was opening many doors but Voldemort was not fooled by the simpering masses. There were those who were waiting for him to make a misstep and to take advantage of the situation. He would never give them that pleasure. His goal was to become a political powerhouse and while it would take time, Voldemort was determined to be successful. 

Opening the doors to their suite, Voldemort was momentarily surprised to not see Harry sprawled across their bed. A shiver went down his spine as he recalled the closeness of Harry's body and went in search of his bedmate. Walking through the dimly lit halls, Voldemort went to the only other place he knew Harry would sleep and was rewarded with a vision. The curtains of the room were partly open and the light of the moon streamed across Harry's prone body. The glow was unearthly and tickled a memory in the back of Voldemort's mind. 

_"He's an enigma."_ Voldemort mused. He couldn't help but compare their similarities. They grew up in horrible home environments, faced persecution at the only place that felt like a home and from those who were jealous and didn't understand power. It amazed Voldemort that their paths turned out so differently. He was determined to show them he was better than a squib mother and a muggle father, while Harry was content to walk away from all of them and live his life on his terms. Any other thoughts fled as a pained groan came from Harry's lips. 

ooOOoo

Harry's dreams were dark and filled with terror. He was in the woods surrounding the manor, fleeing an angry mob. He couldn't see the people and they were soundless as he ran through the woods. They were carrying torches and Harry knew they had plans to do something horrible to him. He tripped and stumbled as he fled, the dark of the woods closing around him. As he tripped and hit the hard ground, he was captured. His next vision was being tied the marble altar in the woods. He still couldn't see who had captured him but they had to be magical because Harry could feel their power around him as they chanted, their voices growing louder and louder. He couldn't understand the ancient Latin that had reached a crescendo but he became uncomfortable as he felt the heat began to grow in his body. Harry struggled trying but couldn't break free as the moonlight changed into sharpened spears and entered his body. Heat and pain exploded as Harry cried out in agony. As Harry writhe in anguish, the light filled his body and began to seep through his pores. While he lay on the altar, ready to call for death, a figure stepped from the unidentified crowd. She glowed white with the moon, her dress flowing around her like a cloud. She reached Harry and stroked her hand across his forehead. Instantly, his body stilled and peace came over him.

_"Rest, my child. You did well. Mother Magic is pleased."_

ooOOoo

Touching Harry, Voldemort was shocked to feel the amount of heat that was pouring from Harry's body. He was boiling hot but his skin was dry to the touch. As Voldemort started to call for an elf, Harry opened his mouth, releasing a blood-curdling scream. Harry's skin began to glow from within and his body arched as the light exploded from within. For once, Voldemort was at loss as he watched Harry's body explode in light. Before he could react, Harry’s body suddenly stilled and the glow disappeared. Harry's body settled into the bed and he appeared as if he had never been disturbed. Voldemort collapsed into a chair near the bed, debating if he needed a calming potion for himself. 

As he watched Harry, a frown marred his brow. Something about what he had just witnessed swam just out of reach of his memory and he was certain he had the information in his study.  
"Lil!" He called out, an elf instantly responding to his call.

"Yes, Master Gaunt?"

Voldemort turned his gaze to Harry. "Keep an eye on Harry. If there are any changes at all, come to me immediately." 

Going to his study, Voldemort knew that the answer to his question was within his reach. 

ooOOoo

It was dawn before Voldemort found what he was looking for. The magic of the altar in the woods affected Harry but, unfortunately, Voldemort didn't have the full extent of the altar's powers. His trip to France would allow him to obtain the grimoire of the manor's previous owners. He knew they fled to France during Gellert Grindelwald’s time and left scarce information in Scotland. Enough information has been left behind to inform Voldemort that the altar had the ability to enhance magic if it developed an affinity for the person's magic. Apparently, Harry's running away attempt was enough for the altar's magic to make contact during the time in the woods. The bigger questions were why did it choose Harry and what would the altar's magic do to Harry's magic?

ooOOoo

Harry woke up ravenous. He was stunned to see how bright it was, letting Harry know he had risen later than his usual time. As he moved from the bed, Panky appeared with a tray of food, placing it on the bed. Harry was surprised lunch offerings but the smell of the meal overrode his questions and began to eat his unexpected meal in bed. As he tucked in, Voldemort entered. 

"Good afternoon. How do you feel?"

Harry cocked his brow at Voldemort's concern as well as his shock at the time. "I'm starving but I'm fine."

Voldemort frowned. "You remember nothing about last night?" 

A sliver of worry coursed through Harry. "Dinner with bratty Barty and then I went to bed. Should I remember more?"

Voldemort sat down and described what he saw last night but left out his theory about the altar. Harry was understandably concerned. "I feel fine. I don't remember any dreams or feeling anything out of the ordinary."

Voldemort didn't reply as he studied Harry for a few moments as if he were a curious specimen. It was just starting to get uncomfortable for Harry when Voldemort finally spoke. 

"There seems to no physical changes to your body, your magic still feels the same, and if you say you feel no different, maybe it was simply a strange incident."

Moving the tray to the side, his appetite gone, Harry moved past Voldemort and headed back to their shared suite for his clothes. He racked his brains trying to recall any memory of a dream but nothing came to him. Harry wasn't worried if Voldemort would follow him. The bigger problem would be getting out of his sight. 

ooOOoo

Harry was spot on about being out of Voldemort's sight. He couldn’t turn without Voldemort being his shadow. The only private time he had was in the bathroom and Harry spent an enormous time in there, hiding out. Staring in the mirror, Harry could see no difference in his appearance and he didn't feel any different. He was curious to test his magic but with Voldemort's undivided attention, Harry didn't want him to see how much control he truly had over his magic or any potential new skills that may have shown up. It also made it impossible for Harry to get his belongings in order. He was only taking the personal items he bought with him originally and had been checking them for any type of trace. He had found a one on his bag and, working with wandless magic, it would take longer to remove it but he hadn't been alone long enough to even try it. Frustrated, Harry went to the library, hoping he could have more than a moment of private time. 

ooOOoo

Harry lucked out because unexpected company arrived at the manor and completely monopolized Voldemort's afternoon. Harry was able to find a spell that would allow him to move the trace from his bag without draining too much of his magic. Replacing the book after copying the spell, Harry found something of interest and by the time Voldemort was able to escape from his tedious meeting, Harry was engrossed in the theory of magical painting. 

"I was wondering where you had vanished."

Harry didn't reply, instead stretching languidly, as he set the book aside. Voldemort had come to collect a notebook he needed as the meeting went on and he took a moment to look Harry over. He still looked healthy and other than a slight flush, Voldemort could still not see any change. Harry's magic didn't feel different and he wished he could take Harry to have a magical reading but with his trip looming in the next day, there wasn't time. It would be something that would be taken care of when he returned. 

Harry, on the other hand, was frozen as he stood under Voldemort's gaze. He wondered how long would he be examined like a microscope specimen. Harry decided to try deflection.

"Don't you have people waiting for you?"

Giving a slight frown, Voldemort turned to his desk and picked up the notebook. "I have half a mind to take you to France with me after all."

Harry sat down, keeping his face still to not show his sudden panic. "Why would you do that?"

Voldemort headed for the door. "I'm curious."

Harry gave a deep sigh as the Lord of Manor left the room. He could only hope that Voldemort wouldn't change his mind but he was getting out as soon as the coast was clear.

ooOOoo

Voldemort made his final preparations as Harry slept, once again, sprawled across the bed they had been sharing. He had reservations about leaving but until he got the grimoire from the old family, there was nothing he could do regarding Harry. It was too much of a risk to take Harry to France. There were too many opportunities for Harry to possibly escape and, at the moment, it would be hard to keep him hidden. There was a fleeting thought to what Barty said but Voldemort knew it would be a serious step back to luring Harry willingly to his side. Based on the writings he had found regarding the altar, Voldemort knew that the magic had begun to affect Harry but in order for him to tap into that power, Harry had to willingly share it. 

After tapping his bag with his wand, shrinking it and placing it in his robe pockets, Voldemort called Panky. "When Master Harry awakens, let him know I have left. I expect to speak with him morning and evening in my study via firecall. I'll owl back the times." 

Barty was waiting in Voldemort's study. "Are you sure leaving Potter alone is wise, my lord?"

Voldemort turned cold eyes to Crouch. "Do you dare question my judgment?" He replied in a cold voice. 

Barty prostrated himself at his lord's feet. "No...No, my lord. I was just..."

"I suggest you stop speaking before you say something you will regret." Voldemort replied, tossing floo powder into the flames of the fireplace. Stepping confidently into the grate, and calling out his destination, Voldemort couldn’t stop the cold lump of dread that had settled into his belly.

ooOOoo

When Harry finally awakened, Panky was waiting for him with the instructions that she had been left with for Harry. Voldemort wanted to speak with him at 10 pm and noon. He would wait to speak with Voldemort at 10 pm as well as the first noon to not arouse suspicions. That meant Harry could leave around one and have a 10-hour window. Voldemort would be busy during the day and would not have time to surprise Harry with an unexpected call. That would give him time to settle at Gringotts and get out of town before Voldemort realized Harry was gone. 

Harry spent the day making sure his personal belongings were packed up. He also finalized his to-do list.

• Visit Gringotts to collect money and arrange to establish an account in a new location.  
• Visit his apartment, pack his remaining items and pay off the remainder of his lease.  
• Post a letter to Mrs. Avon and Marc.  
• Catch a cab to Heathrow airport. 

Harry knew the longest part would be Gringotts. Luckily, his apartment was sparse and he only planned on taking personal belongings and art supplies. The letters were already written and could be posted from the box outside of his apartment. Harry thought the airport was genius. Voldemort would be looking into magical travel, not realizing Harry's attachment to his muggle roots. Muggle travel would be hard to trace, especially once he had a passport in his new identify. He hated to shed the "James Evans" persona but Voldemort knew it. At least, he could possibly pick it back up once he arrived at his new home. 

As for his new home, Harry had considered long and hard before settling on America, New York to be precise. His research found that there was a large magical community there with a strictly enforced secrecy policy. He would be able to easily hide in the sheer number of people who had no idea who Harry Potter was or had been. He would become another nameless, faceless person in the crowd. It was ideal. For the first time, Harry would be able to just live without the burdens and expectations of others. 

Time flew by for Harry. He trained until he wore himself out and it took everything he had to actually be awake for Voldemort's check in at 8 pm. Instead, he braced himself with several large mugs of strong, hot tea. He was finishing his late supper with the fireplace whooshed to life. 

"I see that you got the instructions that I left behind for you." Voldemort said as a greeting. 

Harry scoffed and just watched the floating head in the green fire. "Why are you doing this?"

Giving a mirthless chuckle, Voldemort smirked. "I'm just checking on your well being."

It was Harry's turn to smirk. "No, you were just checking to see if I were still here." 

"Touché." Voldemort replied, a more serious expression on his face. "Has there been any change in your magic?" 

"Not that I can tell." Harry fibbed slightly. He noticed that many of his wandless spells were easier to cast and seemed to have a touch more power behind them. It felt like some of his magic was behind a wall and he couldn't access it completely. He knew once he was settled in New York, he would have to see a healer to see what was going on. 

Voldemort's eyes narrowed and Harry resisted the urge to squirm He knew that any sign of agitation would alert Voldemort. After a moment, Voldemort seemed to calm and Harry allowed himself to relax slightly. 

"I am meeting with the former family who owns the manor. It seems there is a family grimoire that will shed some light on the home and the altar that is in the woods."

Harry was now curious about what Voldemort would find out about the altar, considering his experience with the majicks of the altar. This also meant there was information out there he could research on his own. 

"That's interesting. I'd like to see what was said about it."

Voldemort responded but he seemed distracted by something in the background. "Of course." Without warning, Voldemort pulled his head out of the fire, leaving Harry waiting. After about 5 minutes, Voldemort returned. 

"It seems that there is something, even here, that requires my attention. I'll speak with you at noon tomorrow."

Before Harry could respond, Voldemort closed the connection. Feeling a little perturbed, Harry sat for a moment, then returned his room. Moments later, Panky popping in surprised him. 

"Oh, Master Harry! I thought you were still speaking with Master Voldemort. 

Harry frowned. "I thought you monitored the floo?" 

Panky shook her head, her large ears flapping around wildly. "Oh no, Master Harry! We are strictly forbidden to enter Master Voldemort's study unless summoned."

Keeping his face impassive, Harry digested that information with glee. "Could you bring me a glass of warm milk and a slice of treacle tart?"

"Yes, sir!" Panky said happily as she popped away to fulfill Harry's request. A moment later, she was back with a steaming mug and a huge slice of tart. After dismissing her, Harry enjoyed his late dessert and contemplated what he learned. The last obstacle he had been concerned about was gone. Harry had been certain that the elves kept an eye on the study but know that it was off limits made everything so much easier. Tomorrow was going to be spectacular!

ooOOoo

Voldemort couldn't shake the feeling that something major was going to happen. He had been in meeting most of the morning after staying up late reading the grimoire of the family who used to own his manor. The information on the altar was truly shocking. It was built as a shrine to Mother Magic and was used for a variety of purposes. He found records of the family asking for favor, fertility rites, and bountiful harvest. As near as he could figure, Voldemort reasoned that someone in the family had fallen afoul of Mother Magic and she punished them. The family had been stripped of its land, titles, and at some point, its magic. The person who sold the grimoire was a squib from a long line of squibs and knew nothing about their magical origins. The man just thought it was a fanciful tale told by his ancestors. The altar was attracted to the magic of someone who was pure in spirit and the spirit of magic. Once the magic found a suitable person, it began to transfer some of its magic to that person. If the person became bonded, the magic would be shared through their bond with the partner, providing the bond was a willing bond and not forced. 

As Voldemort strode down the hall, he wished he could send regards and miss the meeting to dig deeper into the book. How would the magic change the recipient? The desire for knowledge itched but Voldemort knew his first priority was to hammer out the agreement with the French allies he was working on bringing into his fold. Swinging open the doors, Voldemort reined in a sigh.

_"Duty calls."_

ooOOoo

Harry was up with the sun after a restless night. Excitement and worry stole his sleep from him but he knew that he had to be clear headed in order to accomplish his goals for today. Failure was not an option. He trained some to calm his nerves and by the time Panky appeared with breakfast, he had worked off some of the excess energy. Harry nibbled at breakfast, nerves not allowing him to fully indulge. His plan was simple. All of his belongings would be shrunken down and in his pocket so he would not leave the study. It would be a while before the house elves would notice he was missing. Harry would have to wait until he was in the muggle world to get his plane ticket but everything else could be handled at Gringotts. 

By the time Harry reported to the study, he was back to being a bundle of nerves. So many things could go wrong and Harry knew that if he failed, Voldemort would never let him have to opportunity to have a second chance. Sitting in front of the fire, Harry resisted the urge to fidget. He knew that Voldemort was terribly observant and the least little change would catch his attention. He was ready for this call to be over so he could set his plan in motion. Freedom was so close that Harry could taste it and he just had to be patient a little longer. 

Promptly at noon, flames whooshed in the fireplace and Voldemort's head appeared. Without any type of greeting, he began talking. 

"I am in possession of the grimoire from the previous owners of the manor."

Harry couldn't help his curiosity being spiked and forgot his nervousness. "What did it say?"

"It seems that the magic of the altar has the ability to bond with the occupants of the house but not as strongly with its chosen recipient. Apparently, we have not noticed the other instances of the magic working but the incident the other night was a major infusion." 

Unconsciously, Harry leaned forward. "What does this mean for me?"

"To be honest, Harry." Voldemort puzzled, surprising Harry with the unexpected use of his name. "I don't know. I know that the magic is considered a gift from Mother Magic and can be shared if the bearer is willing." 

Feeling his heart leap into his throat, Harry couldn't control the stutter as he tried to speak. "Sh..shared?"

Voldemort further unnerved Harry with a devilish smirk. "Yes. Shared. Apparently there is a ritual that allows the magic to be transferred between willing...intimate parties."

The idea of "intimate parties" caused Harry to blush. The power based between the two of them would be tremendous and could bring Britain to a time of great prosperity or great ruin. Harry honestly didn't know if he could temper the ambitions of Voldemort. True enough, this time around, he seemed less violent but Harry wasn't going to stick around to see if that would change. It was rather sad really. In a perfect world, this version of Voldemort was very attractive to Harry and under other circumstances; Harry possibly would have been willing to be wooed. Instead, he had found love’s equivalent of a spoiled brat. Once again, Harry felt he had been thwarted by fate in the love department. 

Voldemort noted Harry's blush but then the disappointed look that bloomed on his face. "Is there a problem, Harry?" 

Shaking himself out of his pity party, Harry responded. "No. Just reflecting why Mother Magic seems to always have it out for me." 

The conversation after that was short and Harry was relieved that Voldemort did not linger. He stayed sitting in the study for another 30 minutes, waiting to ensure Voldemort didn’t pop up unexpectedly. Finally assured, Harry pulled the floo powder from the pouch in his pocket and tossed in the fireplace. As the green flames glowed, Harry took a deep breath, stepped in, and cried out “Gringotts” in a clear voice. 

ooOOoo

On the plane ride over the Atlantic four hours later, Harry had to admit things happened in a whirlwind. After explaining to his account manager what he was trying to do and how it needed to be expedited, Harry left long enough to slip into muggle London and retrieve his things at his apartment, including his beloved wand. He posted the letters he had written and hurried back to Gringotts until he could leave. It took two hours to get the papers settled to transfer his accounts to an American branch of Gringotts. He was also given a passport with his new identity – Castor Jones and Harry couldn’t help but smile at the irony of being named after a constellation in true Black family fashion. Thanking the goblins, Harry applied his usual glamour, left the bank and entered Diagon Alley. 

Before entering The Leaky Cauldron, Harry couldn’t help but stop and look back. Everyone was going on about his or her normal business, something Harry had never known since entering the magical world. He hated to leave his remaining friends behind but the chance to start fresh and be free of the weight of British wizards was too tempting. His hand had been forced with the return of Voldemort and he couldn’t see that situation ending well either. Harry was no longer anyone’s pawn and he refused to be a slave to any expectations except his own. Walking through The Leaky Cauldron, Harry quickly moved into muggle London and hailed a cab to the airport. 

The wait at the airport was nerve-racking. There were hundreds of people milling around, forcing Harry to try to keep a constant eye out for anything strange. Every too loud sound had Harry jumping and he knew he wouldn’t relax until he was off English soil. After an hour of waiting, his flight was finally called and Harry had to slow himself down to not run to the gate. His magical objects hidden from the muggle security machines, Harry had no problem boarding and it wasn’t until the plane took off and was well over the ocean did Harry allow himself to relax. 

_He was free. He was finally free._


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's in New York!!

Being in America was freeing and nerve wracking at the same time.  Harry was always looking over his shoulder, fearful he would be discovered but it was exhilarating to be just another face in the crowd.  Few people knew who he, with his muggle blue contacts and glamoured red hair, and with an ordinary name like Arwan Jones, no one paid any mind to the young man.  It was lonely at times because Harry refused to let people get close but it was better than being trapped in a glided cage.  He sometimes wanted to reach out to Hermione and let her and Ron know he was okay but Harry didn't doubt that Voldemort was keeping an eye on them and waiting for that to happen so he could track Harry.  It was hard to leave without saying good bye to his oldest friends but he knew the moment Voldemort discovered Harry was gone, they would be the first people he's go to.  Them not knowing anything was Harry's last attempt to keep them safe. 

He had been keeping up with news from England with a Daily Prophet being delivered to his Gringott's vetted mail box.  Lord Gaunt was rising in power and, while some commented on his ruthlessness but a well respected ability to handle business matters others thought that England needed that after the terror of Voldemort and the Disappearance of the Boy Who Lived. 

_"If they only knew!"_ Harry snorted.  Ignorance was truly bliss and the magicals in England seemed to have it in spades.  There were weekly discussions on where Harry could possible be and the only reason people didn't think he was dead was because Ron or Hermione denied it in the press.  What bothered Harry was the fact that Lord Gaunt was expounding on the fact that Harry Potter should return to England’s wizarding world to help "usher in a new era of growth and prosperity."

Harry wanted to gag.

He knew what those stories meant.  Voldemort was looking for him and using the Prophet to let Harry know that.  That was why Harry stuck to living in New York.  It was a huge city and Harry didn't have a problem living in muggle areas if necessary.  It was an exciting place to be and Harry could find so many things that held his interests.  The magical body in America, MACUSA, was strict on the separation of magicals and muggles or, as Harry learned, no-maj areas, so unless there was a violation of the statute, it was easy to move back and forth between the two worlds.  Harry found a small studio apartment to live in the magical area.  It had room enough for him to paint and have living space.  With practice, he learned how to layer his magic to make magical paintings but kept them hidden until he decided what to do later.  He had no intention of selling them in the magical world, fearful they would be discovered by Voldemort.  

Settling in, however, didn't mean that Harry was truly happy.  It had been 6 months since his escape from England and he had celebrated his birthday alone. Now with Christmas approaching, he almost achingly missed being in London.  For the first time since his arrival at Hogwarts, he wouldn't be with a member of the Weasley family.  While they accepted his decision to distance himself from the unrealistic expectations of the British wizarding world, Mrs. Weasley still expected to see him around.  Harry knew they all had to be worried sick about him but leaving without notification was for their protection.  It took him a few days after realizing it was almost the holidays before inspiration struck and he hurried to Gringotts to put his plan into action. 

ooOOoo 

6 months.

It had been 6 months since Harry had seemingly disappeared off the face of the earth.  Voldemort was beyond livid, especially once he discovered how Harry got away.  It took all he had to not kill Barty in his rage.  Instead, he took a page from his "Lord Gaunt" playbook and sent Barty as an emissary to Russia, knowing it would take several months in the achingly cold climate to negotiate a treaty with them.  It seemed a fitting punishment for his carelessness, never mind that Barty was knocked out when the floo powder was taken. 

Subsequent visits with Ron and Hermione revealed they didn't know Harry was gone and, to Voldemort's horror, Hermione burst into tears while arguing with him about Harry. After quietly summoning her coworker, Voldemort beat a dignified but hasty retreat.  His visits to Harry's two muggles were on marginally more productive. Harry had left them letters but no details where he was headed.  Harry had paid off the tea shop and allowed his agent to continue selling the paintings but the money went into a muggle bank account.  With the disappearance of Harry from the scene after his stunning debut, the price of his works skyrocketed.  

While secretly proud of Harry's cunning, Voldemort was miffed that his search had run aground.  It was obvious that Harry must have utilized muggle means to leave and with his ease of living with muggles, Harry would have no problem blending in.  Voldemort knew there were many wizarding communities near large muggle cities but without a definite destination, it would be like looking for a needle in a haystack.  Frustrated, he worked to cultivate Lord Gaunt's status but kept tabs on Hermione via Angelia.  Hermione was suspicious of him but Ang refused to share in Weasley's suspicions.  A "chance" meeting with Ang at Flourish and Blott's allowed him to attach a subtle listening charm to the clueless witch.  It would only be activated if it picked of Hermione's magical signature and if Harry's name was mentioned.  So far, it had only happened twice. 

The first time was few weeks after Harry disappeared. Anglia just happened to ask Hermione if she had heard from Harry after the latest series of " _We miss our savior!"_ articles in the Daily Prophet.  Voldemort could hear the sneer in Hermione's voice. 

_"No and why would he want to come back with folks expecting him to keep saving them?  Everyone wants to treat him like a toy or a pretty thing to sit on a shelf!"_  

Voldemort couldn't explain why Hermione’s comment rankled his nerves.  

The second time occurred a few weeks later.  This time, Hermione bought him up.  

_"I'm worried, Ang.  It's Harry's birthday and I think this is the first time since we left Hogwarts that we haven't been able to at least write him or send him a gift."_

_Ang's voice sounded worried. "You haven't heard from him?"_

_Hermione sighed. "Not at all.  We went to his job and she told us he quit and left without saying where.  I'm so afraid for him._

_Ang's voice dropped to a whisper. "Do you think he's in danger?"_

_"He has to be." Hermione replied.  "There's no other reason why Harry would hide himself so completely from everyone.  His ‘saving people complex’ wouldn't allow him to tell us where he was because he wouldn’t want to endanger us."_

Voldemort replayed the conversation over and over in his mind.  He hated this new consciousness that came with his restored soul.  He had never considered Harry thought he was in danger.  It explained why he trained so hard. 

_"He wanted to protect himself and get away... from me."_

Voldemort couldn’t help but wonder if even the sex between them was done because Harry felt he had no option.  Voldemort prided himself on having willing lovers but this whole dealing with Harry had turned his world upside down. the very thought of Harry believing he was under duress made Voldemort feel dirty

ooOOoo

Once Harry completed his business at the bank, he had say he was pleased.  The goblins directed him to a healer who specialized in magical core exams and whose confidentiality was beyond reproach.  It didn’t take him long to arrive at her office.  As Harry entered the building, the wards washed over him, removing his glamour.  Before Harry could panic, the healer stepped out. 

"Good afternoon, Mr. Potter.  I'm Healer Ard.  Gringotts sent me an owl about your arrival.  There are no secrets here hence the wards removing the glamour.  It will reapply when you cross the wards again to leave." 

Harry's pulse began to settle as he followed the healer into her examination room.  Harry explained about the infusion of magic from the altar and what had changed since then.  Healer Ard had him to lay back and began to run scans.  The scans took so long that Harry actually dozed off.  

"Mr. Potter, I'm done." Healer Ard said as she gently awakened the sleeping wizard.  "We can go have a seat in my office."

Once settled, Healer Ard picked up a pile of papers.  "First of all, it would seem that the magic infusion has enlarged your core.  You’ll need training to learn hos to manage the additional magic without overpowering your spell work. You are, however, not meant to have this power alone." 

Harry's heart began to race in his chest. "What do you mean?"

"This type of magic is bond magic.  You can voluntarily share this with a bond or soul mate.  It's meant to strengthen your bond and enhance both of you."  
   
Harry sat in thought for a moment.  He remembered Voldemort telling him the same thing about having the ability to share the magic.  He had ignored the implications in his haste to get out of England but now it was time to really do some research.  

"What happens if the bond is forced?"

Healer Ard frowned.  "The bond would snap and the magic would backlash.  I don't know for certain how it would affect the people involved."

Harry's mind began to reel.  He was shocked out of his scattered thoughts by Healer Ard's next question.  

"Is this why all of Britain is looking for you?"

Harry's head shot up, shock dancing across his face.  Healer Ard raised her hand.  "Everything here is confidential.  I can't break my vow to my patients without losing my magic.  No one will know you are my patient."

Harry considered for a moment, then sighed.  It would be nice to share some of the burden without worrying if he would be betrayed.  

"Only 3 people know about the magic.  The rest of Britain is looking for _the boy who lived_."He replied, his voice dripping with derision. 

Healer Ard blinked. "Am I one of the three?"

Harry nodded.  "I left England not long after it happened.  Only one other person was present."

"Your soul mate."  Healer Ard concluded.

Harry snorted.  "Do I get a choice in the matter?"

Healer Ard gave a sad smile.  "If the altar activated in the presence of you both, I would say no. Mother Magic chose the best one for you."

Harry sighed.  Healer Ard didn't reply, instead she began writing rapidly on a sheet of paper.  "This wizard specializes in helping wizards control their magic.  His discretion is ensured.  I'd like to see you again in two weeks to check your stability.  It looks good now but I'd like to keep an eye it."

ooOOoo

Yule dawned bright and cold at the Burrow.  Molly was thrilled to have a house full of warm bodies again.  The holidays had been hard with Fred gone and now that Harry was missing, it seemed like another hole was torn in the family.  No one knew what happened to Harry and Hermione finally broke down and tearfully shared with Arthur and Molly about Harry and his trip.  There wasn't much they could do but speculate.  The veiled threats from Lord Gaunt were enough for Hermione to believe he was in the dark on Harry's whereabouts as well. 

Now Molly was up, preparing breakfast, relishing the quiet before the raucous family broke the peace.  The outside world was whitewashed from the overnight snowfall and Molly knew they would wind up outside with a family snowball fight.  Again there was a pang as she thought about Fred's passing and now Harry out there alone.  The situation Hermione described sounded horrible.  She had met Lord Gaunt briefly and his cold persona chilled her to the bone.  The idea that Harry may have been forced to remain with the cold lord reminded her too much of how the poor boy suffered at the Dursleys'.

Any further thought was interrupted by the tapping of an owl on the window. Frowning as she opened the window, she took the letter from the it and allowed it to move into the room to warm itself near the fire.  Molly's hands began to shake as she recognized the official seal from Gringotts.  It took several tries before she was able to open it.  After reading the first few lines, Molly began to shriek'

**"ARTHUR!"**

ooOOoo

Hearing from Harry turned the Yule holiday into a joyous occasion.  They still missed him severely but knowing that he was safe and in good health made his surrogate family feel better.  It was this perkiness that caused Ang to smile at her friend as they returned to their office after Boxing Day.  Hermione had been really down since Potter's disappearance and she wondered what happened during the holiday.  

"So you had a good holiday?"  Ang began, sitting a cup of tea on Hermione's desk and taking her usual seat on the corner.  

Hermione beamed.  "Can you tell?"

Ang laughed. "So spill!  Did Ron buy you something extravagant?"

Hermione playfully rolled her eyes.  "As if!  We finally heard from Harry!"

Squealing, Ang jumped up and hugged the excited witch.  "That's fantastic! Where is he?"

Releasing Ang, Hermione took a sip of her tea.  "He didn't say.  The letter came through Gringotts.  He just wanted us to know that he's well and safe.  He said he missed us."

"I know everyone was thrilled to hear that." Ang cooed. 

"We were, Ang, we were." Hermione responded brightly.

ooOOoo

Voldemort counted himself amongst the thrilled ones at hearing the Weasley witch's news.  Using Gringott's to send his letter was a brilliant move.  Untraceable and the goblins would keep his privacy.  Voldemort was more thrilled at the other information it gave him.  Using Gringotts would help him to narrow down locations where main branches existed.  This would make his search a more focused endeavor.  He had a few obligations to take care of but the hunt would resume.  

"Soon, my Harry, you'll be back by my side."

ooOOoo

Harry was apprehensive meeting the person Healer Ard recommended to help with his core training.  Walking into a building that looked very similar to a muggle gym, Harry felt his tension ease some as he recognized training dummies.  He could feel the magic cushioning the floor to prevent injury.  Maybe this wouldn't such a bad idea.  Harry had made sure that the healer had registered him as Arwin Jones but he was still surprised to be called by the name. 

"Mr. Jones?  It's good to see you on time." A voice said from behind.

Harry jumped, turning with his wand at the ready.  He was surprised to be facing a very handsome but formidable opponent.  Swallowing, Harry pointed his to the floor.

"It seems that you have me at a disadvantage."  

The wizard raised a brow.  "With the quickness your wand was at the ready, I would have to say that disadvantage is debatable but my name is Michael Daley."

Harry took the extended hand while studying the man in front of him.  He was the color of warm caramel with honey colored eyes.  He had a few inches on Harry and a strong grip.  Slim but muscular, Harry knew he would be up for a challenge in training.  Realizing he was being appraised, Michael gave a cocky grin.  

"Let's see what you got."

ooOOoo

The next few weeks were a blur to Harry.  Michael was a tough taskmaster and wound up swiftly becoming a friend.  As a result, Harry wound up sharing who he really was and Mike shrugged and still called him Arwin.  When he discovered that Harry had been in New York for almost 8 months and had never been on the social scene, Michael dragged Harry to some wizarding night spots and took him to a few muggle restaurants as well.  For the first time, Harry was beginning to enjoy being in the city.  His training progressed rapidly and after checking his core, Healer Ard was plowed to see it strengthen but warned Harry again that he wasn’t meant to hold onto that much magic.   Harry agreed but there wasn't much he could do about it.  Unless hell froze over and the earth turned on its axis, Harry didn't know if he'd ever see Voldemort in person again. 

ooOOoo 

Voldemort's first trip to the States was a bust.  While Miami was interesting, Voldemort found it too hot and entirely too enticing.  Because of the weather, wizards and witches alike has no propriety when it came to walking around in skimpy clothing.  The sight of the warm, oiled flesh bought back memories of Harry's lustful utterings and for the first time Voldemort had to relieve himself in the shower.  Unfortunately, it did nothing to better his mood.  Instead, he was left furious at his lack of control and his failure to find Harry. 

ooOOoo

Harry lay on the floor panting, trying to recover from the punishing workout.  Mike was tough but under his tutelage, Harry was developing better control of his magic as well as increased his casting strength.  Said slave driver stood over Harry, that cocky grin still on his face.  "Look, it's Mardi Gras time in New Orleans.  Since you are new to the states, you have to go!" 

Groaning, Harry sat up.  "I don't know, Mike." 

Extending his hand, Mike helped Harry stand.  "You haven't been out of this city and this is the one time you can flaunt magic around no-majs.  they won't even know because they are too drunk to realize what they see is real!" 

Mike could still see Harry's skeptical look.  "Tell you what.  Go to Ard, let her examine your core and give you a clear bill of health.  It's only for three days, Sunday, Monday, and Fat Tuesday. "

Sighing, Harry was tempted.  It would be great to have so fun and not hide all the time.  No one knew the true reason he left England and they just assumed it was because of the unrelenting fame.  At times, he felt like a coward because he fled instead of facing Voldemort like he did the first time.  It was weird to say but facing death was easier than facing the fact that he had been having sex with his captor and had possible fallen for him before he knew who "Tom" truly was. here were times when Harry wondered if things could be different.  If he had never known who Tom really was or if he hadn't tried to keep him trapped in a gilded cage, would it have made a difference?  What if he had wooed Harry instead, would it have matter who he had been in his past life?  Harry could only give a frustrated sigh.  There were no clear answers to his questions. 

ooOOoo

In the end, Harry decided to take Mike's advice and go see Healer Ard.  She gave him a clean bill of health but warned him his magic could now sense his soul mate.  

"You'll be drawn to each other if you are in the vicinity of each other."

Harry frowned.  "Like a beacon?"

"Not as strong but you would be able to sense each other." Healer Ard responded. 

Another thought niggled Harry's mind.  "Would I be able to ignore it?"

"Oh yes!" Healer Ard laughed.  "It's not a compulsion where you just HAVE to go to that person.  It's more of an awareness of that person being near you.  Once you bond, I'm certain what you would sense would change."

Harry gave a sigh of relief. visions of a vampire-like compulsion had settled in his brain and he was glad to have that theory thrown away.  Now he had no valid excuse.  It looks like he was going to check out Mardi Gras with Mike.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mardi Gras (/ˈmɑːrdiɡrɑː/), also called Shrove Tuesday, or Fat Tuesday, in English, refers to events of the Carnival celebrations, beginning on or after the Christian feasts of the Epiphany (Three Kings Day) and culminating on the day before Ash Wednesday.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to reflectedmisery for helping me to hopefully give a fair picture of New Orleans and Mardi Gras.

New Orleans was everything Mike said it was and more. They arrived in the city on Saturday morning. Harry had taken Mike's advice and dyed his hair a deep auburn with muggle dyes instead of relying on the glamour. The logic was that magically sensitive people could sense the glamour and depending on the wards around the location, the glamour could be removed at the most inopportune moment. Harry, recalling his first visit to Healer Ard, agreed and went along with the changes. He still had magical contacts in to change his eye color to a dazzling blue. Without the glasses and letting his hair grow a little longer, Harry almost looked like a different person. Anyone who knew him would definitely do a double take. 

_"I almost look like a Weasley!"_ Harry laughed as he took his first look in the mirror. 

Being in the magic saturated air of the city was intoxicating. People from all over the world were there and everyone was simply having a good time. Wizards and muggles alike were open and relaxed. The history of voodoo transfixed Harry and under any other circumstances, he would have almost been like Hermione, digging for as much knowledge as possible. The idea that it was practiced out in the open was incredible and that muggles placed so much belief in it to the point that they actually sought out practitioners for their needs. This was the first location he had ever been in that embraced its magical history and did it out in the open. 

“Why are they so free with their magic?” Harry asked as he and Mike sat out on the patio of Cafe Du Monde. Harry was transfixed with people watching in the shadows of the St. Louis Cathedral. It was almost dark but Harry knew he wanted to visit the stately building before they left the city. At the moment, he was deeply enamoured with the strong chicory/coffee blend he was drinking and trying to figure out how he could get the incredible beignets sent to New York every morning.

Mike took a minute before he answered. “When they bought slaves from other countries here, some of them were magical. They hid their magic under the guise of religion, which allowed them to continue practicing it plus they also integrated many of their practices with the Catholic religion. Doing that also helped many of them become a more prominent part of the New Orleans society because they learned to use their practices to make their life easier. As some no-majs began to realize the power they held, instead of condemning them, they sought them out to get help with their businesses and love lives. More fearful no-majs portrayed it as evil and depraved. Most of the magical practitioners went underground to protect themselves.”

Harry frowned. “So what about now? How are they so open with the secrecy statute in place?”

“Because to many of the no-majs, voodoo is not real. It’s a tourist attraction and people eat that up. They buy the fake amulets and potions and it's all in good fun. Magicals and no-majs who know the truth know how to find the real practitioners. Marie Laveau is still worshipped today as the reigning Voodoo Queen even though she has been dead a long time. She was a powerful witch and some say her powers still extend from beyond the grave.” 

Harry couldn’t help the shudder that went through his body. The story reminded him too much of Voldemort and how he didn’t seem to have the ability to stay dead. 

ooOOoo 

The first parade that Harry attended blew his mind. They were uptown with the crowds of folks. It was slightly irritating to be in the crush of the crowd but Harry couldn’t find in himself to be too upset. Beads were flying through the air as people shouted out to the riders on the floats and Harry surged forward with the pack as people reached out for the coveted beads. The floats were huge and full of colorful feathers and flowers, each with a theme that filled the whole parade. Marching bands performed in the spaces between floats, filling the air with the symphonic sounds. It was amazing to see the dancing girls and young teens as they marched and played at the same time. They didn’t stay too long to Uptown because Mike wanted to make sure Harry saw a super Krewe parade and that would be happening later in the afternoon. As they strolled the streets of the city, Harry just absorbed the sights and sounds of the city. For too long he had been denied the pleasure of being able to enjoy himself. England still wanted him to protect them, Voldemort wanted whatever he wanted and to be honest, Harry wasn’t really sure what that was. He was tired of living up to other people’s demands. At the rate he was going, Harry wasn’t sure if he had anything left in his spirit for England. 

After the first night of drinking and parades, Harry's normal British reserve was gone out the window. For the first time ever, Harry felt like a free twenty something enjoying life. The pair didn't wake until mid-afternoon, indulging in fine New Orleans cuisine before donning festive masks and hitting the parade routes. Harry had never seen such a party in the streets and Mike was spot on when he said the muggles didn't know the difference between magic and reality in their drunken party mood. Seeing the crazy Krewe of Tuck parade, with their wild floats and the giant toilet throne, only reinforced the idea to Harry that muggles didn’t always make everything so serious. They just lived life to the fullest. Some how, Mike had snagged some coveted tickets to the Krewe of Orpheus Ball and Harry spent the night in fancy dress, meeting muggle celebrities, dancing and drinking the night away as the party ended in a huge indoor parade. Everyone was showered with magnificent beads and doubloons. Harry couldn’t recall a moment where he felt more alive. 

Before Harry knew the weekend had flown by and it was Fat Tuesday, their last full day in the city. At midnight everything would stop and it would officially be the Lenten season.

To Harry's surprise, he was up early, a feeling of unease settling over him and stealing his sleep. They had lucked up and found a small hotel that had a balcony off the room and Harry instantly fell in love with the quiet mornings in the French Quarter. To keep from disturbing Mike, Harry sat on the balcony, soaking in the morning sun. Even after several bracing cups of the New Orleans chicory coffee that he had grown to love, Harry couldn't shake the feeling that something was going to happen. Once Mike woke up, he put it off on too much booze and the sneaky drunken kisses Harry had been indulging in with random dudes. Blushing, Harry brushed Mike off but still kept his guard up.

The largest parades were being held today and Harry was excited to see them but he was also ready to go back to his quiet life. He was glad he had a chance to experience Mardi Gras and decided while he was in the United States, he would began to travel and explore other regions. The plan was to see the two largest parades and then spend time touring some of the city. Their portkey wouldn't be leaving until dawn Wednesday morning. Mike was insistent that they visit Marie Laveau’s House of Voodoo in the French Quarter. While Harry held no love for divination, Mike knew there was a true seer there and thought it would be fun to see what she had to say. Harry agreed to go but absolutely refused to have a reading done. 

ooOOoo

The front of the shop darkish and filled with different potions, spell books and gris gris designed to appeal to muggles. Harry didn’t touch anything, not sure how his magic would react to the fake items. He saw Mike in the back of the shop speaking with a tiny woman with puffy blue and purple dyed hair that reminded him of Hermione. She had it mostly tamed under some type of headwrap that went along with her bohemian skirt and top. Harry couldn’t help but roll his eyes. 

_“Why are seers always the strangest of the lot?”_

Purposely staying away from the two magicals, Harry continued to browse the shop. He was amused at the people the people buying love potions and amulets that allegedly guaranteed success and luck. There were even voodoo dolls that supposedly could be used to curse someone and kits for people to make their own gris gris bags. 

_”I guess it’s the selling of hope.”_ Harry shrugged as he moved on to the t-shirts. He was trying to decide whether to be horrified or amused at the shirt display when Mike came and tapped him on the back. 

“I know you didn’t want to talk to the seer but she says she really needs to speak with you.”

Turning fully to face his friend, Harry shook his head. “No! I only agreed to come here with you because I wouldn’t have to talk to a seer. Most of the issues in my life were caused by a seer.”

Before Mike could reply, Harry headed to the door, only to be blocked by the colorful woman. 

“Not hearing what I have to say doesn’t change what is to come, Mr. Potter.” 

Harry gaped at the woman. “How...how did you know who I was?” He threw an angry glare back at Mike. 

The seer touched his arm. “Your friend did not betray you. As he told you, my gift is real and I’m certain you’d rather have this conversation in private than as a spectacle for the no-mag tourists.”

Looking around, Harry did notice the number of people eyeing them curiously. With a long suffering sigh, he followed the woman to the back with Mike right on his heels. 

ooOOoo

All her life, Tiffany Roberts had to deal with reactions to her “gift”. Even in magical communities, seers are revered and feared at the same time. She learned over time to not share what she saw unless it was vital to the person. New Orleans had been a saving grace for her. After growing up in her little hovel of a town in Oklahoma, New Orleans and its history of magic allowed her to live freely without the stigma some people had against seers. Most no-majs didn’t believe what she said was true but there were some who hung on her every word and supported her nicely. Magical sought her out, knowing that she was a true seer but some also feared her, like the young man currently sitting in front of her. 

She had known he was coming to the city months ago. Despite being told a fictitious name and his use of a disguise, Tiffany knew immediately who Harry Potter was when he walked into the shop. Mike told her he refused to do a reading but she insisted. Harry needed to be aware of some major changes coming. 

“I know you didn’t want to talk with me. I’m aware of your history with seers” 

Harry said nothing. Instead he sat across from her with a scowl on his face. Seers and prophecies had done nothing but bought pain and sorrow all of his life. Even now, he was, once again, running from the result of a prophecy that apparently still was dictating his life. He refused to give in to his curiosity. Harry was more than ready to go home now.

The two magicals engaged in a stubborn game of wills before Tiffany finally spoke. 

“Your soul mate is near. Avoiding him will not change your future together.”

Harry was shocked. “Near? As in here in New Orleans?”

Tiffany nodded. “You have to realize that he will not stop until he finds you. He will raze the earth, if he has to, until he does.” 

By now, Harry’s curiosity and fear won out. “Has he harmed my family?” 

“No.” At Harry’s sigh of relief, she smiled. “He knows it will not win you over. You temper his magic with your own. Right now, it’s barely under his control but you have the power to direct his magic into more productive endeavours for the benefit of your country.”

“I don’t want this.” Harry replied, sadness apparent in his eyes. “I never wanted to be the savior.”

Tiffany sighed and reaching across the table, patted the desolate young man’s hand. “Mother Magic chose you.”

To Tiffany’s surprise, Harry exploded in anger. “Well, I’m sick of it! My whole life has been a shit storm because of magic!”

Her eyes widening as the entire room began to shake from the force of the magic unleashed from Harry, Tiffany raised her hand in an attempt to calm him down. After a few tense moments, Harry finally calmed down. 

“I’m tired. I’m so tired of being the one who has to save everyone.”

“Mother Magic understands this. This is why she sent you a helpmate.” Tiffany replied. 

Harry gave a mirthless laugh. “Right. Like being connected to psychopath is so helpful to me!” 

“When you two met for the first time, it was under deceitful circumstances. Fate had been circumvented around one man’s manipulations. Both of you had been led astray by someone you should have been able to trust. Your helpmate was a broken soul. Errors had to be corrected for you both to fulfill your destiny.” 

Harry leaned across the table and a chill swept through Tiffany as a powerful wave of magic began to engulf her. 

“So you are saying it was destined for me to become an orphan and to suffer at the hands of muggles and be betrayed by selfish magicals? All for a bloody destiny?”

Before his anger caused him to blow up the building, Harry stormed out of the room, nearly ripping the flimsy door off its hinges. Mike, along with magical and non magical people, gasped as a wave of angry magic flooded the shop. Hurrying to his friend’s side, Mike knew he needed to get him to calm down as quickly as possible. The last time Harry had a blow out, they had to make major repairs to his gym... 

_It started simple enough. They were sparing but Mike decided to bring in a former client who needed some additional work. He had been a pain in the past but Mike hoped that he had changed some since it had been over a year from his last visit. From the beginning, Mike could see it was obviously a mistake. He was arrogant and quickly antagonized everyone in the gym. For some reason, the guy decided that Harry was the weakest one in the gym because of his quiet demeanor. Before too long, he finally pushed the wrong button with Harry. The force of the spell almost Harry used caused the man to grow flying across the gym and crash into the wall, shattering some of the magic-embedded brick. It shook the building so hard that Mike had to bring someone over to check the foundation of it and add a new layer of spells for protection. Harry was devastated by the destruction and even though he didn’t care for the irritating man, he hadn’t meant him any major harm. It was at that moment both Mike and Harry realized that Harry’s magic was too powerful for one wizard to hold and it had to be shared or Harry would be eventually be overwhelmed and lose control of his magic_

Harry had made it to the door but in his haste, nearly knocked over a man who was on the sidewalk in front of the shop. It was brief contact but in his anger, Harry didn’t notice the jolt that shot through his system and how he suddenly began to calm down. His apology was barely out of his mouth to the man when Mike caught him. 

“Arwin! Are you alright? Let’s get out of here.” 

Harry allowed his friend to pull him down the crowded sidewalk away from the shop. He knew it was the anger that made his magic react so strongly but the strength of the reaction still frightened him with its intensity. As both men hurried to the apparation point for the hotel, neither paid attention to the man watching them walk away and disappear into the crowd. 

ooOOoo 

Voldemort’s magic pulled him into the crowded French Quarter on the most raucous day of the Mardi Gras season. He contemplated turning around to get of the crush of people when he felt a powerful pulse of magic. It reminded him of Harry but it felt different. 

It felt… more.

Hurrying to the source, Voldemort was surprised to find himself in front of one the muggle voodoo shops. 

_“Fake magic.”_ He sneered as he paused on the sidewalk. Moving to enter the shop, Voldemort was pushed backwards by a young man almost barrelling over him. The brief moment of contact was enough to send his magic into a frenzy. It was powerful and intoxicating but as the same time, soothing. 

_“Harry?”_ was the first thought that popped into his head, even though the young man looked nothing like Harry. Before he had a moment to act, another man came running behind him and called him “Arwin”, dragging him away with a mumbled apology, leaving Voldemort to watch them as they disappeared into the crowd. 

“He has to come back on his own, you know.”

Voldemort looked down at the voice, surprised he was so distracted that his defenses allowed her to get so close to him.

“A true seer.” He mused. “Whatever do you mean?” Voldemort asked with a slight hint of derision in his voice. 

“Harry.” She replied, repressing a smile as the calm mask slipped for a flash before he could smoothly slide it back in place.

Before he could question her, the seer spoke. “He has to see for himself. Words mean nothing. Actions are everything to Harry. He needs to be taken care of. He cannot carry his burden alone.”

She then patted him on the arm and turned to reenter the shop. “Go home, my lord.” She said with a twinkle in her eye. “He will come to you soon enough.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The gris-gris originated in Dagomba in Ghana and was associated with Islamic traditions.Originally the gris-gris was adorned with Islamic scripture and was used to ward off evil spirits (evil djinn) or bad luck. Historians of the time noted that they were frequently worn by non-believers and believers alike, and were also found attached to buildings.  
> The practice of using gris-gris, though originating in Africa, came to the United States with enslaved Africans and was quickly adopted by practitioners of Voodoo.However, the practice soon changed, and the gris-gris were thought to bring black magic upon their 'victim.' Slaves would often use the gris-gris against their owners and some can still be seen adorning their tombs.During this period, there were also reports of slaves cutting, drowning or otherwise manipulating the gris-gris of others in order to cause harm. Although in Haiti, gris-gris are thought to be a good amulet and are used as part of a widely practiced religion; in the Cajun communities of Louisiana, gris-gris are thought to be a symbol of black magic and ill-fortune. In spite of the negative connotations of gris-gris, so called Gris-Gris doctors have operated in the Creole communities of Louisiana for some centuries and are looked upon favorably by the community.In the 1800s, gris-gris was used interchangeably in Louisiana to mean both bewitch and in reference to the traditional amulet. Gris-gris are also used in Neo-Hoodoo which has its origins in Voodoo. In this context, a gris-gris is meant to represent the self. _Via Wikipedia_


End file.
